


An Arrangement

by Calminaiel



Series: Foundations [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Auror Harry Potter, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, Blow Jobs, Dark Mark, Exams, Flashbacks, HP: EWE, Imprisonment, Legilimency, Light Angst, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Medical Jargon, Mention of past trauma, Mentioned Draco/OMC, Mildly Dubious Consent, Not Epilogue Compliant, Post-War, Redeemed Draco, Rimming, Vampire Draco, Vampire Sex, light fluff, vampire!Draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-07 14:46:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 58,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5460266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calminaiel/pseuds/Calminaiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco's life changed dramatically after the Battle of Hogwarts and now, five years later, Harry Potter reenters his life with a proposition to help him cope.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The First Visit

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: Now completed!  
> This is a Work In Progress, I anticipate it will be several chapters because I like to waffle on in my writing.  
> 

         Draco had every intention of ignoring the distant knock on the door as he lay in bed. After the 8th knock, however, he was forced to admit that his _ignoring-the-knocking_ strategy was not working. He threw himself out of bed, wrapped an emerald green fleece dressing gown around himself, shoved his wand into the small pocket and made his way downstairs. In the manor’s foyer he paused to straighten his hair before he approached the heavy door and wrenched it open. There, standing on his front step was the last person in the world he’d expected to see.

         “Potter?” Draco’s eyes narrowed, “What the hell are you doing here?”

         Harry was stood there in plain black robes, holding a folder with an additional roll of parchment tucked under his arm. “Mr. Malfoy. I am here on Ministry business,” his voice seemed to trail off as his eyes travelled downwards. Draco wrapped the dressing gown more tightly around himself haughtily and glared at the unwanted intruder.

         “Well?” Draco snapped. While it was true that he no longer clung to the animosity that he and Potter had felt when they were in school together, _not since the war_ , he also saw no reason to go out of his way to be pleasant to anyone who woke him so early in the morning. “What does the Ministry want with me?”

         “I would be very appreciative if you would invite me inside so we could further discuss my business. It is of a… sensitive nature.” Potter’s formality felt awkward and forced, but at his words Draco felt a brief flutter of hope, only to have it dashed as Potter stepped over the threshold without waiting for a proper invitation.

         “Oh yes,” Draco muttered, “by all means, do come in.”

         “Thank you.”

         Resigned to the idea that Potter would be staying for a while Draco forced his face into a smile and gestured warmly toward the library, in which he lit the fireplace with a flick of his wand, “Why don’t you make yourself comfortable while I step upstairs to change into something more appropriate.”

         “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.” Potter said stiffly and, after a short bow, he turned and walked into the library.

         Draco walked briskly up the stairs and closed the door to his bedroom behind himself. _Why is he here? Could he possibly know?_ Draco shrugged off his dressing gown and stood, naked, in front of his armoire as he surveyed his options. _He said he’s here on Ministry business. I suppose that Auror job worked out after all._ He selected a set of finely tailored black robes with tidy silver fastenings that he remembered looking quite flattering. _He’s certainly grown since school. If it weren’t for that ridiculous face of his I would hardly have recognised him._ He pulled the robes on and selected a freshly polished pair of boots. _I wonder why they sent him. Or perhaps he asked to come._ To his horror, Draco felt his stomach lurch at that thought, _you are simply not allowed to fancy Harry Potter,_ he told himself sharply as he laced up the boots and stood up straight. He looked down at himself and gingerly felt his hair once more, deciding to run a comb through it, just to be safe. _It hardly matters how fit he is, he’s a self-righteous prat and you’re nothing more than an ex-Death Eater prick to him._ He self-consciously ran a hand down his left sleeve before striding to the door and opening it softly.

         He took the stairs silently and found Potter examining his library collection when he arrived in the doorway. He leaned against the door frame casually. “Impressive, isn’t it?” he said softly, smirking when Potter jumped at his sudden appearance.

         “Quite.” Potter clasped his hands behind his back and Draco noticed that the parchments he had brought with him were now sitting on the coffee table in front of the fire. He gestured pleasantly toward the chairs in front of it and took his own seat in the large grey armchair. “Mr. Malfoy-” Potter began, but Draco raised a hand to cut him off.

         “Please, Potter. Call me Draco or call me Malfoy, but I will not tolerate being called Mr. Malfoy.”

         “Very well then… Malfoy.” Potter cleared his throat and gathered up his parchments into his lap, “We have a few questions to ask you about a man by the name of Cahir Killough.” Potter read the name out of the file and Draco stiffened slightly, deciding in an instant that he needed to proceed with absolute caution.

         “I’m terribly sorry, but the name doesn’t ring any bells.” Draco said, turning his charm up to its limit, “May I ask who he is that the Ministry would take an interest in him?” he asked with a syrupy smile.

         Potter looked at him with an expression of distrust before conceding, “He’s a suspected dark wizard with ties to some new Death Eater offshoots who are calling themselves ‘The Devouring’.”

         Draco let out a small laugh in spite of himself at the ridiculous name, but Potter’s eyes narrowed dangerously and he realised that his chuckle may have been misinterpreted. “They think that a ridiculous name will make them legitimate? How thick can they get?”

         “I don’t know,” Potter’s voice was measured, but his tone was icy, “there are always _certain_ _types_ eager to join up with silly sounding groups in order to gain recognition.”

         Draco got the hint and leaned back into his chair, “Fair enough, Potter. So tell me, this ‘Devouring’, do they have a leader? Someone who fancies himself the new Dark Lord?”

         “And why the hell would I tell you, Malfoy? Maybe you fancy a stroll down memory lane…”  
         “I don’t appreciate the implication, Potter. I have no interest in the Dark Arts anymore.” Draco straightened his posture and avoided Potter’s gaze as he adjusted his fringe, “As I told you, I’ve never heard of the man you’re asking after.”

         “Malfoy, I’ve been given authority to use whatever means necessary to stomp out this threat. If you are withholding information from The Ministry…” If he’d been looking at Potter he might’ve seen him draw his wand surreptitiously.      

“ _Legilimens!”_ Potter’s voice broke through the brief silence and Draco had only a moment’s warning to block the assault on his mind. He was, after all, a skilled Occlumens, and had yet to have his mind penetrated against his will. However, in the split second before he was able to clear his mind and throw up his protective barriers he saw a flash of the man he’d had over two nights prior, his mouth thrown open wide as he lay on naked Draco’s bed, his olive skin covered in blood.

         Potter’s face paled as he leapt to his feet, “What the hell was that, Malfoy? I think we’ll continue this line of questioning at The Ministry!”

         Draco had also leapt to his feet, however, and now turned to face Potter squarely, “I don’t think so, Potter. I have done nothing wrong.”

         “You call _that_ doing nothing wrong?”

         “What you saw was a consensual act between two adults.” Draco spat, unsure whether he was angry because of the awkwardness of the situation he found himself in or because it was Potter who was accusing him.

         “The _consensual…_ He… You…” Potter sputtered, clearly unsure how to proceed. Draco knew he was trying to process what he’d seen, no doubt trying to decide whether he was more disturbed by the fact that he’d been lying naked in Draco’s bed or that he’d had blood smeared all over his body. “Why doesn’t he have any memory of this?”

         Draco decided at the last second that he was better off from this point on telling the truth, as the alternative was almost certainly a cell in Azkaban for aiding and abetting (or possibly assaulting) a known Dark Wizard. “Because I took that particular memory from him before he left my house yesterday morning.”

         Potter faltered, “You mean to tell me he came here to… that you two…”

         Draco smiled, again that pinched, sickly sweet smile, “We fucked. Don’t tell me the precious Saviour still blushes at the idea of sex.”

         Potter’s face reddened slightly, but, to his credit, he carried on, “and he agreed to that?”

         “As I recall, it was his idea.” Draco shrugged, his voice taking on an unconcerned tone.

         “Well what about the blood? He was covered in it!” Potter’s voice sounded shaky, but his hard expression never waned.

         Draco paused for a moment, _this is it, moment of truth,_ “I’m afraid I got a bit carried away. I’m usually much neater.”

         Draco’s words hung in the air like a ghost between them. Potter’s expression had melted into one of pure shock, his eyes wide and his mouth agape. Draco watched him silently, his own expression carefully guarded as Potter took in this revelation.

         “Much neater? You mean when you…”

         “Feed.” Draco finished the sentence for him. “Yes. As I said, he knew what I planned to do and consented to it before we even arrived here.”

         “So are you…” Potter’s voice had gone very soft and Draco couldn’t help but smile dryly at his incredulity.

         “A vampire. Have been for some time now.” Draco confirmed. He tried to keep his tone light and casual, knowing that it was the kind of information that could go either way in someone’s mind.

         “When did you…” Potter hesitated, he seemed completely thrown and stood there in front of the fire awkwardly, unsure where to take this line of questioning.

         “Five years ago.”

         “But five years ago is when…”

         “Yes. It is.” Draco said curtly as he sank back into his chair, “Now, if you don’t mind, I don’t think that was the reason for your visit?”

         “Right, erm…” Potter also resumed his seat, slowly, as he rifled through his parchments. “So you say he consented to be… erm…”

         “Either ‘bitten’ or ‘fed from’ is fine.” Draco offered.

         “Right. He consented to be bitten, and to the sex…” Draco smirked once more at Potter’s expression, _he certainly wasn’t expecting the conversation to go this way,_ “But did he consent to the memory wipe after?”

         Draco frowned, “I didn’t ask. It was simply necessary.”

         “Why is that?” Potter’s formal tone only thinly masked his genuine curiosity.

         “Because I don’t want what I am… in either sense,” Draco added, “to become public knowledge.”

         “Do you do this regularly?” Potter asked, pulling a quill and inkwell from his robes.

         “Fuck men or bite them?” Draco asked, his voice unusually dark.

         Potter swallowed audibly, “Both.”

         “I do.”

         “And do you always erase their memories?”

         “I do.”

         “You’ve been doing this for five years?”

         “Yes.” Draco was beginning to get worried. He knew that he had not _technically_ broken any laws. Although there were some very strict statutes when it came to the use of memory charms, he had been careful not to take more than the time in which they were with him, a loophole in the law used predominantly by ministry officials themselves.

         “Well,” Potter looked at his notes again, “were you aware of or did you at any point discuss his activities related to the Dark Arts or his involvement with the group calling themselves The Devouring?”

         “No... I’m afraid we didn’t do much talking.” Draco added, mostly to see the look on Potter’s face.

         “And can you tell me where and when it was that you met him?”

         “Of course, let’s see, that would be the night before last at Allsopp’s Tavern down on Knockturn Alley.”

         “Get quite a lot of unsavoury characters down at Allsopp’s.” Potter remarked, “We get called down there at least once a week.”

         “Well, speaking as an unsavoury character, it’s not a bad atmosphere.” Draco smiled, and Potter looked momentarily worried that he might’ve offended him, but his face softened quickly as Draco flashed him a rare smile.

         “Alright, well, I don’t think I have any further questions for you about this, I’ll make a note that I spoke to you, but otherwise I’m more than happy to leave this between us.” Potter returned his smile, albeit a bit half-heartedly. He looked as if he was about to stand when he suddenly spoke again, “If you don’t mind me asking, and if it’s too personal you can feel free to tell me to sod off,” He cleared his throat and continued, “Why don’t you want anyone to know? Vampires aren’t looked down on like they used to be… sure, they might not elect one Minister of Magic any time soon, but you’re perfectly allowed to find… donors.”

         Draco’s smile faded slightly, leaving him with a slightly unpleasant look on his pale, pointed face, “And who, do you imagine, would volunteer to be the one to sustain _me?”_ His voice was calm, but his jaw tightened as he continued, “My family has been forgiven one too many times in the eyes of most, I can’t imagine many would take warmly to the idea that not only are the Malfoys free, but one of them is quite literally a bloodthirsty creature now. I would imagine that many would see forgiveness or accommodation of my current condition as a step too far.” Draco looked at Potter, and he could tell from the man’s eyes that he privately agreed. “Besides, it’s not difficult, especially in places like Allsopp’s, to find a willing donor, especially if the deal comes with the promise of fantastic sex.”

         Potter flushed again and Draco couldn’t help but wonder if it was the idea of gay sex that was making him anxious, or the thought of sex with Draco.

         “Surely you would only need to find one person who would be willing to… donate on a regular basis?” Potter licked his lips unconsciously and Malfoy suddenly found himself staring at them, _he’s certainly taking all of this better than I would have expected…_ “If you could find someone like that, they could keep your secret and you wouldn’t have to worry about finding someone willing each time.”

         “Obviously that would be ideal, but I can’t think of anyone I would trust that much, let alone who would trust me now.” Draco said with more than a hint of bitterness in his voice.

         “Perhaps…” Potter didn’t continue, and after a moment’s silence Draco began to wonder if he’d somehow forgotten that he’d begun to speak.

         “Perhaps?” Prompted Draco, hardly daring to believe what he might be hearing.

         Draco’s lips parted slowly as he caught sight of Potter’s expression. _That’s not fear, that’s desire,_ his heart felt like it was doing flips and for the first time in 5 years he felt alive.

         “What would I have to do?” Potter’s voice was calm, measured, but Draco could see the glint in his eyes that told him that perhaps Potter already knew.

         “You wouldn’t have to do anything!” Draco’s throat felt suddenly dry and his voice was barely above a whisper. “You would come by, once a week would suffice, and we could… talk… if you like.”

         “And then?” Potter’s tongue peeked out to wet those perfect lips as he watched Draco with intense focus, _I wonder if this is how the snitch feels,_ Draco thought with a smile.

         “And then I would feed from you.” He knew there was no reason to sugar-coat it. Potter was an adult, an auror at that, and Draco remembered how much he valued honesty.

         “Would you… Turn me?”

         Draco’s whole body felt frozen, he suspected if he’d been alive his heart would’ve stopped at those words. “Do…” for the first time since Potter’s arrival he felt genuine fear, “I mean, do you want me to?”

         “Of course not, you git!” Potter’s incredulity was almost funny and Draco smiled broadly, sighing with relief.

         “Well then, of course I won’t!” He could hear some of his old sneer sneaking back into his voice, but to his surprise Potter smiled as well.

         “Good. Well then, I will make a note of my visit in the records. You should have nothing to worry about in regards to this investigation and-” He stood abruptly, holding his hand out to Draco with what felt like an inordinate amount of formality, “I’ll send an owl to confirm the date of my first… visit.”

         Draco’s throat now seemed to have closed up entirely and he only managed a curt nod, standing to show Potter to the door. _This is actually going to happen. Potter is going to return to the manor, he’s going to voluntarily return, and he’s going to let me feed from him._  The mere thought stirred feelings in Draco that he wasn't sure he was ready to face yet.

***

 

 

Potter’s owl arrived two days later with a short, hastily scrawled note,

**Saturday, 6pm**

Draco wasn’t sure whether or not Potter would be expecting a reply, but his question was answered as the owl didn’t wait around for him to pen a response. _This Saturday._ It might as well have been years away, Draco briefly considered sending his own owl to follow up, asking Potter for an earlier time, but he knew he was already pushing his luck, so with a resigned sigh, he sunk back into his chair by the fire.

         Saturday morning rolled around quicker than Draco had expected, and suddenly he found that he could no longer sit still, _it’s the anticipation of the blood, nothing more,_ he kept telling himself, but somehow he didn’t believe it. He briefly considered going out to buy himself new robes but he quashed that idea with a quick peek into his massive armoire, which held more clothes than he could ever wear, and certainly plenty that he had never worn before.

         Finally, it was 5pm and Draco was standing anxiously in the entryway wearing his best shirt, a thin white silk top with black trousers, freshly pressed of course, and his most stunning dress robes, a dark satin that looked so much like ink that he’d expected it to feel damp when he first picked it up. He knew Potter wasn’t due for another hour, but he couldn’t help it, his excitement was far too great to do anything but wait. Grateful for the first time that he didn’t need to breathe, he stood perfectly still in the entryway, allowing himself to sink into a trance-like state in the vast silence of the empty manor.

         The knock on the door startled Draco out of his stupor, he ran an anxious hand down his chest, smoothing his robes to perfection before confidently striding forward and pulling open the door. Standing on his stoop was Harry Potter, covered in mud, dirt and dried blood, and wearing what could only have been his Ministry-issued auror robes. The look on his face as he looked Draco up and down must’ve been exactly what Draco’s own expression looked like. They both stood there, embarrassed and confused, for a moment before Draco stepped aside, graciously extending his arm in a gesture of welcome. Potter’s cheeks flushed as he stepped gingerly onto the marble floor, dried mud crusting off of his boots with each step.

         “I’m so sorry Draco, I didn’t realise it was meant to be a formal occasion.”

         “You thought it was a better idea to show up already covered in blood?” Draco asked, his eyes narrowing involuntarily.

         Potter looked taken aback by Draco’s bluntness, but looked down at his bloody and dirty robes and nodded solemnly, “erm, yeah. Maybe that wasn’t the best idea…” He glanced quickly at Draco, who was also staring at his robes, unblinking, “Are you okay? Do you need me to leave?”

         Draco shook himself and realised with a start what an opportunity this was, “Leave? Merlin no, Potter.” He looked the man up and down again, slowly this time, and made a show of wetting his own lips, “but it might be best if you changed into something less… appetising.”

         Potter flushed again but after a moment he nodded, “Okay, do you have spare robes I could wear?”

         “Not in that state, I don’t. No, if you want to wear anything of mine you’ll have to have a shower as well.”

         Draco knew he was pushing his luck, but Potter smiled an almost knowing smile and inclined his head with a smirk. “Just point me in the right direction.”

         Draco smiled and motioned for Potter to follow him down the corridor. He briefly considered taking him upstairs to his own bathroom, but the master bedroom was much nearer, and substantially more impressive.

         They stepped into the dark room, its heavy curtains over the ceiling-high windows blocked out even the moonlight as they passed the untouched bed and made their way through the doorway across the room. In here Draco turned on the lights, he could see just as well in the dark, but he doubted even the Chosen One had managed to develop keen enough senses to fully appreciate the splendour of the master bath in the dark. Along one wall there was a shower built into the twisting black and white marble archways. Opposite that, sunk into the floor enough for a fully grown man to stand was an equally magnificent bath. The toilet had a separate enclave with opaque crystal blocking it from view, and the sink took up an entire wall with the countertops built into the rest of the swirled marble and the long, thin mirror was illuminated with sparkling diamonds lining its edges. Normally Draco would have found all this needless extravagance unseemly, but the look of awe on Potter’s face confirmed his suspicions that the man had never seen anything like it before in his life.

         “The room we walked through, is it your parents’?” Harry asked, his voice echoing marvellously in the gorgeous room.

         “It was while they still lived here.” Draco was not entirely pleased that this was what Potter chose to ask about, but he could tell that he meant no harm. Draco shot a glance at him as they fell back into silence and saw that he was staring, his lips parted in shock, into the mirror opposite them. “Ah, yes. Not all of the legends about us are false.” Draco forced himself to turn to face the mirror as well, he’d gotten into the habit of avoiding them, even having gone so far as to cover some when he was first turned. “It takes some getting used to.”

         Potter had closed his mouth and his expression was now unreadable, but the he turned slowly to face Draco, “I’m sorry about my appearance. I should’ve thought-”

         Draco shook his head, “It’s fine, Potter. Besides, it’s not as if it’s your own blood.”

         Potter’s expression grew, if anything, more indecipherable, “How can you tell?” Draco raised an eyebrow but Potter continued before he could ridicule him, “I mean, I know you can smell it, that much is clear, but if you’ve never smelled my blood, how could you tell that it wasn’t mine?”

         “But I have smelled your blood, Potter.” Draco said softly, “Your entire scent is based on the smell of the blood under your skin. I may not have smelled it… fresh,” Draco felt himself tremble just saying the words and he hoped desperately that Potter hadn’t noticed, “but it’s a bit like knowing what the tea will taste like from the fragrance of the leaves. Besides,” he paused to look Potter in the eyes, “I’ll smell it soon enough.” Potter flushed darker than before and Draco smiled to himself as he turned to leave, “The fresh robes will be on the bed for you when you’ve finished. I will be in the library.” and the lock clicked softly behind him.

Draco leant back against the door, his eyes fluttered closed as he heard Potter’s slow, echoing footsteps inside. He could imagine him, still fully clothed, just wandering around the room, taking it all in. Now he’d bend down to unfasten his boots, he’d shake them off and wonder what he should do with them, then he’d unfasten and slip off his robe, followed by his shirt and then his trousers. Once he was down to his socks and his pants he’d bundle up the clothes and put them… _where? The sink perhaps?_ Draco let his mind imagine Potter’s practically bare body, lean but muscular, undoubtedly with many more scars than the one that initially made him famous. He knew from the short time he’s spent with Potter since the War that the man took his work seriously. He was certainly fitter than he’d ever been, and it showed. Draco let out an audible sigh and quickly clasped his hand to his mouth, his body rigid as he listened through the door.

         The footsteps resumed once more, though now they were muffled, _socks, then,_ and after a brief moment Draco heard the water in the shower begin to run. The footsteps continued for another minute, _he probably thinks he’s_ _letting the water heat up, as if we would use a Muggle method of heating our-,_ Draco caught himself, _not our… my,_ he stood silently for a moment more before resolutely stepping away from the door. He didn’t know how long it would take Potter to shower, but he certainly didn’t want to linger too long. _Accio Robes_. He had been practicing his nonverbal spells since the War, and now he didn’t even think twice as a set of dark, plain robes soared from his own closet upstairs into his waiting arms. He laid them out gently on the bed and with a flick of his wand he illuminated the lamps on either side of the large bed. _No reason for him to have to dress in the dark._

         Draco closed the door to the master bedroom softly behind him as he made his way back into the library. He scanned the shelves before picking out a book on the origins of the Banshee Liberation Movement by Glogryan Noitburg. He settled himself in his chair by the fire and began to read, letting the words occupy the thoughts that were otherwise fixed on the warm body in the other room. He had bought the book at a used-booksellers in Diagon Alley months ago, not expecting to ever read it, but he had spent quite a few years collecting accounts of magical creatures’ integration into the wizarding world and this one, though a bit radical for his tastes, came highly recommended by the bookseller, a scrawny old wizard by the name of Thoman. Now Draco sat perfectly still as he read account after account of unprovoked attacks by wizards on Banshees across the world before they began to band together to demand rights from the wizarding community at large.

         Had he still been human, Draco would have certainly missed the sound of the bathroom lock clicking softly, he wouldn’t have been able to smell the fresh steam all the way in his library chair, and he certainly wouldn’t have been able to hear the man’s heartbeat as he pulled the robes on and let himself out into the hallway.

         “Alright?” Draco asked without turning from the fire as Potter walked into the library, his bare footfalls practically silent as he stepped onto the ornate rug.

         “Much better.” Potter’s voice was husky and dark and Draco only just stopped himself from wondering what else he may have done in the shower.

         Draco stood, then, and walked over to where Potter stood. “Would you still like to sit and talk? It is really up to you what happens next.” He took great care to keep his tone neutral, his expression blank.

         “I, yeah… I think I’d like that.” Potter nodded firmly and Draco gestured to the usually chair beside his own.

         “Would you like something to eat? Anything to drink?”

         Potter raised an eyebrow, “Do you keep food around the house?”

         Draco smiled his most charming smile, “The house elves would be able to whip something up, I’m sure.”

         Potter frowned slightly, “I didn’t realise you kept any of the elves.”

         “Oh, they don’t live here. Frankly they’re not huge fans of mine since…” Draco’s voice trailed off, “They live at Hogwarts year round, but I could summon any of them here in an instant should I need them.”

         Potter nodded, his expression softening ever so slightly. Draco couldn’t help but remember Granger’s expression back in fourth year when he’d mocked her S.P.E.W. pins and asked if she would rather be a house-elf, since they were worth about the same as a filthy mudblood like herself, _“Then at least you’d manage to make yourself useful. Who knows, maybe then others might actually want you around?”_ he’d sneered before Weasley had whipped out his wand and Hermione had dragged him away. He frowned slightly, he knew perfectly well that he’d been a prat in his school days. He knew that his parents’ toxic influence, as well as his unhealthy obsession with blood status had made him a horrible person at best. _Who would’ve thought it would take being turned into a monster to see what a monster I’d always been?_ Potter was watching him carefully and Draco made sure not to show any of his remorse on his face, “If you _are_ hungry, we could also pay a visit to the kitchens and see what sort of dinner we could put together ourselves? I’d hate to deprive you of sustenance when you have so generously offered to sate my own appetite.”

         Potter considered this for a moment and then nodded, “Sure, why don’t we try to throw something together.”

         Draco smiled again and swept out of the room without another word. He could hear Potter’s footsteps behind him as the walked down the long corridor, past the Dining room and into the kitchens. Once more he snuck a glance at the man to gauge his reaction to the vast kitchen with all of its appliances, all top-of-the-line of course. “We probably could manage beans on toast, or pasta…” Draco said, as he began rummaging through the cupboards.

         “So when did your parents leave?” Potter’s abrupt question hung in the air as Draco slowly pulled his hand away from the open cupboard. He hadn’t really spoken about his parents in years, since they packed up and fled. He could remember the tears sliding down his mother’s cheeks like it was yesterday. His father’s inability to meet his eye as he tried to beg them to stay.

         “Almost 4 years ago. They stayed with me for the first year, but my father couldn’t stand the sight of me. One day he announced that he was leaving. He told my mother that it was her choice to stay with me or go with him, but that if she chose to stay she could forget about ever seeing him again.” He sighed, “For all their flaws my parents really do love one another and the idea of never seeing him again was too much for her to bear. She almost lost him once, when he failed the Dark Lord at the Ministry, she thought for sure he would be killed, but instead he was locked away in Azkaban and I had to…” Draco stopped abruptly. Potter knew the story. He knew what Draco had done. “So they left. I think my mother planned to come back and visit me, but I haven’t heard anything from her since they left.”

         “Why wouldn’t… I mean, why wouldn’t they just throw you out? This is their home after all- why wouldn’t he have forced _you_ to leave?” Potter’s curiosity was genuine, but it didn’t help ease the sting of his words.

         “Would _you_ try to force me to do anything now that you know what I am?” Draco said dryly, returning to his search of the kitchen. “They were both terrified of me. At the beginning my mother suggested that they could bring muggles for me to feed from and then wipe their memories, but my father and his stupid obsession with purity couldn't stand the idea of a Malfoy drinking muggle blood.” Potter’s mouth was hanging open now but Draco wasn’t done, “He insisted on feeding me himself, and he and my mother took turns for months, but each time it was like sacrificing one of their memories of my humanity. They began, even my mother, to look at me with fear and contempt, and my father finally decided he couldn’t take it anymore. I reminded him that it was his own idea but he was so disgusted by what I’d become that he couldn’t listen to reason.”

         “You fed from your own parents?” Potter’s voice was soft and not at all accusatory, but Draco whirled on him nevertheless.

         “And what would you have had me done, _Potter_?” he spat, “Would you rather I took my mother’s suggestion and endangered Muggle lives?” Potter’s face hardened and Draco was reminded of the hours they spent tormenting each other in school, “I’m sure you would have handled the situation much better, oh Chosen One, but I, a lowly Malfoy, scum of the earth, couldn’t find any alternative.”

         “The Ministry has systems in place to allow-” Potter suggested, but Draco cut him off before he could finish.

         “And have my condition known? Be put on some register of non-human creatures for Ministry officials to ‘monitor’? To never have any of the opportunities I was promised since birth all because my stupid father infuriated the Dark Lord?” Draco’s voice choked, he took a deep breath, trying to fight back the sudden welling of tears in his eyes. “Let’s get you some food, Potter. What’s past is past.”

         “I’m sorry, Draco.” Potter’s voice was sincere and Draco turned to look at him, “I didn’t mean to drag it all back up for you. I know how terrible the war was for you, the things you were forced to… I just… I’m sorry.”

         Draco couldn’t find his voice to reply, so he nodded, his eyes burning once more. The two men looked at one another for several moments before Potter turned and picked up a packet of biscuits from the countertop, “Any chance you’ve got a pumpkin pasty?” Draco laughed in spite of himself and returned to his search. A few minutes later they had managed to find a packet of dehydrated noodles, several more packets of biscuits, and a bag of crisps. After they’d heated up the noodles they returned to the library with their haul and Draco conjured a table to set beside Potter’s chair while he ate.

         “So what do you do all day?” Potter asked, conversationally. His voice was more casual than Draco ever remembered hearing it.

         “Some studying and practicing new spells. I do quite a bit of reading; some just for fun or about interests of mine.”

         Potter picked up the copy of Noitburg’s book and examined the cover, “Such as Banshee rights?”

         Draco sneered, “Oddly enough in the past few years I’ve developed quite an interest in the rights of non-humans in the wizarding world.” Potter looked at him with curiosity again, probably trying to judge whether or not he'd offended Draco. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to start handing out badges. From what I remember, Potter, you were treasurer of that SPEW nonsense.”           

“Secretary, actually.” Harry corrected him with a grin. “I leave most of that to Hermione these days.” Draco nodded, he had heard that Hermione was working at the Ministry as well now.

         “I’ve heard a lot about Granger lately, first she’s fighting to make my life easier and now she seems to be fighting to make it harder.”

         “What’s that supposed to mean?” Harry asked curtly.

         “From what I hear she was a bit of a star in pursuing rights for non-human magical creatures, but now I hear she’s helping Shaklebolt to get some of our pure-blood laws wiped from the books.” Potter looked for a moment as though he was going to start shouting so Draco quickly smiled and held up a hand, “I’m only joking, Potter. I don’t hold with that nonsense any more. Those were my father’s archaic beliefs, not mine.”

         Potter still looked uncertain so Draco decided it was best if they change the subject. “Are you still… How’s the Weasley girl?”

         “Ginny’s fine. We don’t speak too often these days,” Potter helped himself to a forkful of noodles and they sat quietly as he chewed, “she’s been dating Atterberry. Troy Atterberry, of the Norfolk Knarls” He added, at Draco’s blank expression. “He’s their Keeper. A bit rubbish, but they’re hardly a top-tier team.” He looked at Draco with renewed curiosity, “Do you still fly?”

         “Not often.” Draco admitted, looking a bit dejected, “I don’t leave the house often these days.”

         “Why not?” Potter sounded incredulous, “Surely after five years you’ve learned to control the cravings. You’ve spent time with me twice now without so much as a nip.” He smiled a bit as he finished and Draco couldn’t help but smile as well.

         “Yes, but between my new eccentricity and my well-earned reputation there aren’t many places where people want to associate with me.”

         Potter shook his head, “You don’t seem like you’re trying too hard, mate.”

         Draco’s eyes widened and a mocking smile split his face, “Did you just call me mate?”

         Potter looked a bit self-conscious, but raised his chin defiantly, “Yeah, you know what? I did.”

         Draco shook his head slightly. “Besides, without a regular blood donor I have a harder time keeping my cravings in check. I was able to socialise frequently for my first year, while my parents were the only ones I was feeding from. It made others’ blood seem… I don’t know… less appealing.”

         “Huh.” Potter helped himself to another mouthful of noodles.

         “‘Huh’ what?” Draco asked tetchily.

         “Oh, I just would have thought it would be the reverse, you know?”

         “What do you mean?”

         “Well if I was forced to eat noodles every day, I think other foods would seem _more_ appetising, not less.” Potter explained, “I mean, I suppose it’s developed as an evolutionary coping mechanism…” He suddenly sounded tremendously like Granger, “You’ve probably evolved that way so that you can live safely and comfortably with a single companion among humans without attracting suspicion.”

         Draco nodded slowly, he’d never really thought about it before, but Potter’s hypothesis made sense. “Perhaps you’re right, Potter.”

         “Hey Draco?” Potter’s voice was suddenly hesitant.

         “Yes?”

         “You know; you _can_ call me Harry. If you’d like.” He offered, with a feeble smile.

         “I’ll remember that, Potter.” Draco said as he stood and took Potter’s now-empty bowl and the crumpled crisp bag back toward the kitchen. _Shit._ Draco thought wildly, _was he flirting with me? Is that even possible?_ Draco vanished the bag and set the bowl in the sink, making a mental note to call one of the elves home to wash it tomorrow. _He said he’s not with the Weasley girl anymore, but that hardly means he’d be willing to shag a bloke._ He leaned back against the counter and let himself imagine Harry’s skin against his own, his green eyes fierce as he kissed his way down Draco’s body.

         Draco shook his head, clearing his mind, _it’s no use getting yourself worked up now anyway. Feed first, then see what comes of it._ Draco nodded resolutely and swept back out of the kitchen.

         “So, Potter, are you ready?” His voice sounded sharper than he’d intended as he strode into the library, but the man looked so nervous he doubted he’d even heard him. “Alright, Potter?”

         Potter’s head snapped up and he looked at Draco with wide eyes, “Sorry, what?”

         “Are you alright?” Draco took a step closer, his expression now genuinely concerned. “You’re pale as I am… and as I am technically dead that’s probably not ideal…” Potter didn’t reply, but nodded vigorously, “Look, Harry…” Draco tried, “if you’re not sure about this I don’t want you to feel like you're obligated.”

          To his surprise, Potter smiled up at him, “You called me Harry.”

         “Yeah, well you looked like you were going to be sick!”

         Harry laughed and Draco relaxed a bit, _he’s just nervous, it’s understandable._ “Look… _Harry,_ we can take it really slowly. I can walk you through what’s going to happen.” Potter nodded and Draco resumed his seat across from him. “We’ll have to find somewhere where you’ll be comfortable, you should be as relaxed as possible.” He caught sight of Harry’s skeptical expression and added, “It’ll get easier to relax after the first time.” Draco cleared his throat anxiously and continued, “Once you’re comfortable I’ll let you know when it’s going to happen. I won’t bite until you say you’re ready.” Potter nodded at this, he looked a bit calmer, “the bite itself isn’t as painful as you’re imagining. It’s a second of sharp pain, nothing you can’t handle, and then it will fade away into a kind of pressure, that’s the suction.”

         “Is it true that some people enjoy it?” Potter asked, his cheeks reddening slightly.

         “I’ve read that, but I think it may just be a myth young vampires use to get humans to let them feed from them. If it does happen, I’m led to believe it’s really rare. For the most part it’s just mildly uncomfortable. It won’t take long, that’s why we pick major arteries, if I bit the palm of your hand it would take much, much longer for me to drink enough.”

         “Do you always bite the neck? Is that just in films?”

         Draco rolled his eyes at Potter’s muggle reference, but nodded, “For you, yes. I’ll drink from your carotid artery, personally I prefer the femoral artery, but for our purposes that might be a bit… familiar.”

         Harry opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, but seemed to change his mind. He nodded instead and asked, “will I be weak after?”

         “Not overly so, I’ve been at it long enough that I know when I’ve had plenty and when you’ve given too much. I wouldn’t recommend coming before work, but as long as you have a nice lie down before your next bout of vigorous activity you should be fine. I’ve got some potions that can help with the blood loss and any ill effects you may feel.”

         “Blimey, Draco. Have you ever thought about becoming a Healer?” Potter’s tone was completely serious and Draco felt a stab of pride at the suggestion.

         “I have, actually.” His eyes flicking over to one of the bookshelves on the far end of the library. Harry stood and walked over to it curiously.

         “Are you going to do it?” He asked, his face eager as he turned Draco’s copy of “Mending Magical Maladies: The Healers Handbook” by Rohese Rowntree over in his hands.

         “Perhaps one day.” Draco’s smile was half-hearted; _what program would accept a trainee healer who couldn’t be around fresh wounds?_ He’d been interested in it for a while, even before the War he’d go with his father on his trips to St. Mungo’s and he’d watch the healers bustle about in their white robes, saving lives. He’d even asked Severus about what NEWTS he would need in order to pursue a career as a healer. _He had so much faith in me…_ Draco cleared his mind, he tried not to think about Severus, as a rule. “So, Potter. Do you have any more questions or are you ready to proceed?” Draco was beginning to feel that familiar itch beneath his skin, his senses were heightened, and he was becoming more and more aware that he could hear Potter’s heart beating in his chest.

         Harry nodded, and came back to meet Draco by the fire, “Where should we do it?”

         Draco smiled in the most non-threatening way he could manage, “I usually suggest that we lie on a bed as that would be the most comfortable, but if you’d rather-”

         “On a bed is fine.” Harry cut him off. Nodding resolutely.

         _On a bed._ “Yes. Very well. I’ll take you up to my room.” _On the bed._ Draco’s own voice sounded very far away as he led Potter to the stairs. _On my bed._ His thoughts were deafening as he gently pushed open the door. He stepped aside to let Potter enter first, and the man took several cautious steps toward the bed.

         “How do you want me?”

         _Merlin,_ “Erm…” Draco struggled to clear his thoughts, the sound of Potter- of Harry’s blood was now pounding in his head, “Lie down however you’d like, I’ll sit beside you.”

         _Harry Potter is lying on my bed. He’s going to offer himself to me. I’m going to drink his blood._ Potter positioned himself on the bed and looked at Draco with nervous apprehension.

         “Is this alright?”

         “It’s perfect.” Draco felt the familiar ache in his gums as his fangs began to lengthen. He sat down on the bed next to Harry, uncertain how best to position himself without lying next to him or taking him into his arms. Finally, he took several pillows and stacked them against the headboard, “Could you budge up a bit?” Harry nodded eagerly and sat himself back against the pillows, his neck now just at the right height for Draco to lean down and…

         “I want you to relax. Close your eyes if you must, like I said, I won’t bite you until you tell me you’re ready.”

         Potter nodded and let his eyes flutter closed. Draco took the opportunity to look at him, to _really_ look. His hair was just as untidy as ever, his jaw had become a bit broader, more prominent, and his nose looked as though it may have been broken and mended inexpertly _probably Weasley_. He had broader shoulders than Draco remembered, but his arms were also significantly more muscular, as was his chest and, well, all of him. He was still thin, though and Draco watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed deeply. _Not sure how much longer I can wait,_ his mind warned him, but he pushed it aside, _he’s put all his trust in me, I’ll wait as long as he needs._ He knew that that was wishful thinking, though. Eventually, he knew, the hunger would take over and the vampire would manifest whether or not Potter had given him the go-ahead. His eyes traveled further down Harry’s body and he stopped to stare shamelessly, hungrily, at his crotch. The robes he was borrowing from Draco left little to the imagination in this position and, for that, Draco was immensely grateful.

         “Alright.” Potter’s voice startled Draco out of his fantasies and he turned his head with a snap to look at the auror. “I’m ready, just… just tell me before you do it.”

         Draco nodded fervently even though Potter’s eyes were still closed and scooted his body closer to his prey’s. He let one arm drape over the tops of the pillows, behind Harry’s head, and with the other he gently brushed a finger along the firm jawline. He didn’t trust himself to speak just yet, instead he leaned in closer, slowly, consciously letting his breath ghost across the skin of Potter’s exposed neck. He leant in closer and felt Potter tense significantly as he brushed his lips along the man’s neck. “Shhhh, relax…” he whispered against the skin and he felt Harry shiver against him. “Tell me when you’re ready.” He breathed, his fangs fully extended and his eyes black as pitch.

         “Do it.” Harry whimpered, “Bite me.”

         Draco didn’t hesitate, he licked the skin gently and a split second later he plunged his fangs into Potter’s neck.

         Potter’s gasp was strangled in his throat as Draco withdrew his fangs, letting the initial rush of blood well in his mouth before eagerly swallowing and beginning to suck. Every other sense had turned off, he couldn’t see, hear, smell or think while he was feeding, it was just the blood, just the taste, just the electricity in his mouth that sent life shooting through his body. He guzzled at the wound, never having to come up for air as he drank deeply from the Chosen One. Suddenly, he became aware of a noise in the room. It sounded thousands of miles away, but he could hear it softly, something beyond the heartbeat and beyond the sound of the blood rushing through his veins. _Moaning._ _I’m feeding from Harry Potter and he’s moaning for it. He’s moaning for me!_ Draco almost stopped drinking, the realisation was so incredible. _Not done yet_. His body nudged him onward, but now, for the first time, he allowed himself to hear. Beneath him Harry’s breathing had become heavy, his exhales heavy and every few seconds he would let out an unmistakable moan of pleasure. Draco, newly revitalised, felt himself begin harden at the sounds Harry was making. He sucked more deeply, and was rewarded with a fully formed gasp followed by a deep moan of desire, _of need_. He knew he needed to stop soon. He’d drunk almost his fill and Potter’s heartbeat was speeding up ever so slightly. He knew that if the blood loss continued, his blood pressure would fall to dangerous levels and his heart wouldn’t have enough liquid volume to force the blood to his organs. With a pang of remorse, he slowly stopped the suction, running his tongue once more over the wounds, which, without the presence of his fangs and with the healing power of his saliva, quickly sealed themselves.

         After gently licking up the few drops that had rolled down his neck, Draco sat up once more, and felt his stomach flip as he caught sight of the man beside him. Harry looked positively debauched. He had used one hand to grab the headboard and the other was roughly palming his hardness through his robes. His breathing was ragged and his eyes were clenched up so tightly that Draco wondered briefly whether he was in pain. The soft, gasping moans, however, told him everything he needed to know and he found himself growing impossibly harder at the sight before him.

         “Merlin that was…” Harry gasped, his eyes flying open. He caught sight of Draco and took in a sharp breath. Draco cursed softly as he looked back at the man lying next to him.

         “You look-” he struggled to find the right words, “perfect… right now.” He slowly, and with as much control as he possessed, brought a hand gently to the human’s chest and leaned down to bring their lips together. The kiss only lasted a second before Harry was crying out. Draco jumped back in alarm, but as Potter’s hand stilled and he slumped back into the pillows a broad smile crept across Draco’s face. _I think this is going to be a mutually beneficial arrangement,_ he thought as Potter’s expression melted into pure satisfaction.

 


	2. Research Methods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've finished my outline and it looks as though this will end up being about 6 chapters. Thanks for reading and to all of you who have left comments! I really appreciate it!

Draco sat by the fire, the soft crackling the only other sound in the Manor, and allowed his mind to once more drift back to that morning. He’d watched Potter come completely undone beneath him, without any provocation besides the bite. _Was it just the anticipation of what we were going to do? It couldn’t possibly have been a reaction to the bite itself?_

He stood, resolutely, and strode over to the nearest bookshelf, scanning the titles for the book he was seeking. _There,_ Draco pulled “The Annals of Abioye Afolayan: Vampire Veneration in West Africa”. He had read the book several years ago, while he was learning everything he could about his new reality, and he remembered that Afolayan was one of the few vampires who reported encountering a human who found his bite pleasurable. Draco brought the book back to his chair and curled himself up as he thumbed through the pages. _If it turns out that it is possible, and that Potter’s one of them… What will that mean? Will he want to continue? Or will we be crossing a line he doesn’t want to cross?_

Draco spent the entire day on Sunday reading everything he could get his hands on about vampires. He took careful notes any time the bite was mentioned and, to his great frustration, the only two references to the bite causing a human pleasure were both from first-hand accounts written by vampires themselves. _We’re hardly known for our trustworthy natures,_ he thought angrily as he slammed the book in front of him closed. He cursed and tossed it aside, looking at the pile that had been steadily growing on the floor beside him for the past several hours. He wondered briefly if he hadn’t torn his sire’s throat out, would he have taught Draco the secrets that he needed to know? He shuddered at the memory of that night,

            _His wand rolled into the rubble and Draco looked quickly, suddenly uneasy, at Harry. Vincent and Greg were out of control, he’d told them not to kill Potter, that the Dark Lord wanted him alive, but they were firing off curses at him and, he realized in horror, at his friends._ If there’s one way to be certain that Harry Potter fights back its by attacking his stupid friends! _He thought desperately as he tried to pull Crabbe away from Potter. They were running then, running from the Fiendfyre, they lost Vince and a tall crate landed hard on Greg’s head before Draco managed to pull him atop a pile of rubbish, all the while screaming at the top of his lungs._

 _Potter had pulled him onto his own broom and Malfoy clutched him tightly to keep from falling off as they dove for Potter to get what he’d come for,_ as if that matters anymore, _he’d thought desperately as the fiendfyre lapped at their robes. Then the cool air from the corridor hit his face and he was lying on the ground, wandless, breathless, and Crabbe was gone. He knew before he cried out for him that he wouldn’t see him again, but surely none of this was happening,_ maybe if I lie here I’ll wake up again, I’ll be back home with my parents and they will _\- his thoughts were interrupted, though, as someone grabbed him roughly by the neck of his robes. He tried to cry out but at that moment a huge explosion shook the nearby corridor and he could do nothing but gasp as the ringing in his ears became deafening. A moment later he realized he was being dragged out of the corridor and into one of the classrooms and from the soft grunts beside him, so was Greg._

 _Draco was thrown down harshly and he moaned in pain as his head collided with the cold stone floor. “Get up.” He struggled to his feet, but he was unsteady and almost crumpled to the floor again._ Who is this? _He knew that one of the Order wouldn’t waste time on him, and the three who most wanted him dead had just run off and left him in the corridor,_ and I don’t have a wand, _he thought desperately as he looked up slowly into the stranger’s face. What he saw there made his blood run cold. The man was not much older than himself, but Draco somehow knew that he was much older, ancient, in fact. His eyes were completely black, his mouth and chin bloody and his lips were parted in an otherworldly smile that showed two sharp, pointed fangs. “Don’t touch me!” Draco spat, wrenching his arm away from the vampire._

_“I have been told that you’ve displeased the Dark Lord. That simply won’t do.” The vampire’s voice was thick as his eyes widened gleefully._

_“I am a loyal Death Eater!” Draco cried, pulling up his sleeve to show the Mark, “See?”_

_“I don’t think I care very much right now who you are,” A moan from across the room stole the vampire’s attention as he looked anxiously at Greg, still unconscious on the ground. Draco seized his moment. Shoving the vampire with all of his strength he tore out of the room, running as fast as his legs could manage until he’d reached the upper landing of the great marble staircase. There, amidst the flying curses and spells, was the door._ All I need to do is make it to that door, _he thought desperately, throwing caution to the wind as he lunged for the stairs. He had made it only a few steps before there was a wand at his throat, a masked Death Eater was standing before him, cackling maliciously as he dug the tip of his wand into Draco’s neck. “No, no I’m Draco Malfoy,” He screamed, “I’m Draco, I’m on your side!” his voice had grown shrill and frantic but at that moment a stunning spell hit the Death Eater squarely in the back. Relieved, Draco looked around, surely it had been one of his parents, perhaps even his aunt Bella who had saved him,_ they’ll be able to take me to safety _, he thought happily. No sooner had he thought it than a sharp pain in his face knocked him off of his feet._ _“And that’s the second time we’ve saved your life tonight, you two-faced bastard!” Ron Weasley’s disembodied voice yelled._

 _Draco tasted blood in his mouth and as he struggled to sit up he felt a cold hand rest firmly on his shoulder. “Oh Draco, don’t get up,” whispered the icy sweet voice in his ear, “It will only be a moment’s pain”. That was the last thing Draco heard, he didn’t even have a chance to turn to look at the man again before his fangs dug into Draco’s neck and the world began to slowly slip away. Draco watched the battle raging below him, Dean Thomas and that Gryffindor girl that Potter had taken to the Yule Ball were fighting a barrage of Death Eaters. The edges of his vision began to blacken as he heard screams and a snarl below,_ Greyback is down there _, he thought listlessly as he felt his consciousness slipping from him._

 _“Here you go, beautiful,” the icy voice was back, holding something pale and glistening in front of his face. “Drink this. It will make you strong.” Draco’s mind tried to force his body to jerk away, but he was too weak. He’d lost so much blood. “You only need a sip,” the voice crooned, still whispering amidst the screaming chaos._ Yes. Just a sip. _Draco’s last thought as he took the man’s bleeding wrist into his mouth was of his mother, and how proud she would be that he’d managed to survive._

            With a loud pop the fire pulled Draco from his memories. He looked quickly at the clock on the mantle and saw that it was nearly half eleven, _far too late for such thoughts_. He stood, stretching as he glanced once more, contemptuously, at the dejected pile of books. _There’s nothing else that I can learn tonight. Perhaps tomorrow will bring better results._

***

 

            The next morning, he spent two additional hours finishing the rest of the books he had in his personal collection that mentioned vampires, even in the most peripheral sense. He even read that awful Lockhart book. Finally, he closed it with a sigh. He stood, pacing slowly in front of the fire before he made up his mind. _I’m going to have to ask someone, there’s nothing else for it._ He had been thinking about it last night, _who do I know who might actually be able to find some answers on vampire-related queries._ With a sigh and more than a little apprehension he pulled a quill and inkwell in front of himself and set off on his letter.

Dear Ms. Granger

I am writing to request an appointment with you personally about a matter of the utmost importance.

I would be happy to entertain you at my home and await your owl to set a date and time.

Sincerely,

Draco Malfoy

He looked the letter over several times before he finally took it upstairs to his owl, Tiw, tying it securely to his leg. “This is for Hermione Granger; she works at the Ministry in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Make sure she receives it personally.” His owl hooted briskly and he carried him to the window, opening it enough to let him fly out, and closing it again, setting it on the latch. He made his way downstairs, wondering if he should go into London for the day to work off some of this energy. He decided quickly that that would be the best use of his time, and reminding himself that Tiw would be able to find him in Diagon or Knockturn Alley just as easily as here.

            With his travelling cloak wrapped around his shoulders, Draco focused on one of the Apparition points in Diagon Alley and quickly turned on the spot, apparating with a loud pop. He stepped smoothly off the designated arrival area and made his way toward the great marble building at the end of the lane. The large main hall of Gringotts always reminded Draco of his childhood. He remembered feeling important as he went along with his father as he came to withdraw gold. He remembered how frightened he had been of the goblins before his father had yanked him aside one day and told him that it was unbefitting for a Malfoy to cower in fear, especially over creatures like goblins who, as his father explained, were “little more than house elves who could do sums”.  Draco remembered how he held his head up high after that, sneering at the goblins who examined his father’s key and he remembered the loathing he had for them- they had, after all, caused him to embarrass himself in front of his father.

            Draco sighed and stepped up to the nearest available goblin, waiting politely until he looked up from the parchment on which he was rapidly scribbling and nodded curtly at Draco.

            “Good morning. I need to make a withdrawal from our family vault.”

            “Key” the goblin said tersely.

            Draco produced his key from within his robes and waited patiently as the goblin examined the key.

            “Will you also be seeking entrance into the Lestrange family vault this morning?” the goblin asked, peering down at Draco.

            “Not this morning, thank you.” He mumbled, he wasn’t pleased that he’d inherited his aunt and Uncle’s fortune. He originally had intended to donate the lot, but his mother sat him down one morning and explained to him that he was unlikely to be able to hold down a job with his new condition, meaning that his financial security was dependent on using the contents of her sister’s vault wisely. _“You may find yourself in one or two hundred years wishing you’d saved Bella’s gold.”_ She’d argued, and he’d eventually conceded that she was probably right. _One or two hundred years…_ he sighed. He remembered when they had all learned about how the Philosopher’s Stone had been hidden beneath the school and how perfect Potter had stopped Quirrell from getting his hands on it, he and Crabbe and Goyle had sat in the great hall boasting loudly about what they would do if they had eternal life. He knew now how young and naïve he’d been. _Now that I have eternity, what the hell am I going to do with it? I can barely fill a Monday morning!_

            Another goblin had appeared, asking Draco to follow him to the carts. Draco thanked the cashier and followed the second goblin into the cool stone tunnel where they boarded one of the small wooden carts. He watched the vaults zooming by but eventually his gaze fell back on his goblin companion who was eyeing him with more than a little suspicion. “Had a good weekend?” Draco asked politely, shouting to be heard over whooshing air.

            “Weekends are inconsequential; I work 7 days a week.” The goblin cried back, his face softening a bit as he examined Draco’s expression.

            “Must get a bit tiring?” Draco offered, but the goblin shook his head.  
            “I enjoy it.” His tone had a note of finality and Draco realized that the conversation was over. He sighed as they plunged deeper and deeper and returned to watching the tunnels and doors shooting past. When they reached his family vault the goblin hopped out of the cart, placing his hand on the door and they both watched as it melted away to reveal a mountain of gold that stretched to the roof of the cavernous room.

            “Thank you,” Draco said as he stepped inside. He pulled a small coin purse from his robes and gathered a handful of gold Galleons, slipping them into the bag before returning to the cart.

            “A prudent spender. I understand that’s rare for your kind.” The Goblin said knowingly as he climbed back into the cart.

            Draco tried not to let his surprise show on his face, not only was he somewhat surprised that the Goblin had been able to recognize him for what he was, but that was easily the most conversational he’d ever heard a goblin, including the one that his parents held in their basement when Greyback had dragged him to their home along with Potter and his friends. “I have quite a long life ahead of me, it would be most unwise to spend frivolously.” Draco said in a measured tone. The goblin nodded once, but said nothing else on their return journey.

            It wasn’t until he was back on the main street that Draco wondered who else might be able to recognize him. Werewolves, certainly- he could recognize them now, he’d only encountered a few, but even so he knew that they would be able to smell what he really was. Goblins, apparently had some way of recognizing non-humans, that had been a surprise. He hadn’t read anything to that effect, and wondered if it was something most goblins kept secret. He was just about to make his way down Knockturn Alley when Tiw came flying into view, landing lightly on his shoulder with a satisfied hoot. “That was fast, did you get a reply?” he asked, hastily untying the rolled parchment form the owl’s leg,

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

I am happy to meet with you at your earliest convenience. I will be in my office (inside the Ministry of Magic, Lvl. 2) until 5pm this evening, if you are unavailable today I can meet with you tomorrow at 11:30am.

You are welcome to reply to this letter if you require the appointment tomorrow, otherwise I look forward to seeing you sometime today.

 

Yours truly,

Hermione Ganger,

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

 

Draco cursed softly, he had really hoped she would be amicable to meeting at his home, but as it stood she left little room for misunderstanding, any appointment would be held in her office. Draco stroked Tiw’s feathers gently, “Looks like there’s no need for a response. I’ll see you at home” and the bird took off. _Well,_ he thought, _I may as well go straight there._

            Draco made his way back to the Leaky Cauldron and, after getting change for a galleon, paid 4 knuts for a handful of floo powder from atop the mantle.

            “Ministry of Magic” he said clearly as he stepped into the flames and moments later he found himself in the vast Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. He stepped briskly up to the security wizard, offering his wand for weighing, “I am here for an appointment with Hermione Granger.” He said as the wizard looked at the small strip of parchment that he’d just ripped from the scales, “Ten inches, birch, unicorn-hair core, been in use 5 years. Sound about right?”

            Draco nodded, looking at his wand with a hint of sadness in his eyes. It worked just fine, and it had chosen him, after all, but he still felt a pang of sadness when he thought of his first wand, the wand Potter had taken from him that night in the dungeons.

            “Department of Magical Law Enforcement, level 2, the lifts are straight through.”

            Draco thanked the wizard and took back his wand, pocketing it as he proceeded through to the next chamber. He stepped into the elevator with seven other witches and wizards, he stood silently at the back of the lift until, “Level two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement, including the Improper Use of Magic Office, Auror Headquarters, and Wizengamot Administration Services.” He squeezed past several small witches who were chattering away in a language he didn’t recognize and stepped out into the corridor. There were no signs directing him, so he began walking slowly down the corridor, individually looking at the name plaques on every door he passed, finally, after deciding on a whim to take a right instead of left at one of the forks, he found himself outside the door with a bright brass plaque reading HERMIONE GRANGER: ASSISTANT DEPUTY HEAD.

Draco steeled himself and knocked twice on the door. He waited in the corridor, running his hand absentmindedly along his left forearm as he stood.

            “Do come in,” a voice called after a moment. Draco hesitated, but knew he had little choice so he turned the handle and stepped into Granger’s office. The room was well lit, with a large window behind her desk which was, although clearly impeccably organized, covered in books, parchment, and newspaper clippings. Opposite her desk hung a framed copy of the front page of the Daily Prophet from the second of May, 1998. Also decorating the walls were portraits of different creatures, including, he noted with surprise, one of his family’s former house elf.

            Granger sat behind her desk, her robes nicely pressed and professional, her hair pulled back into a bun behind her head. She, too, had aged perceptibly in the last five years, though she was still just as haughty looking as ever. Sitting beside her, Draco noticed with annoyance, feet propped up on her desk, was Ron Weasley who was looking at Draco with just as much contempt as he had back in their school days.

            “Do have a seat, Draco.” Hermione said, her voice kind but firm as she gestured to the visitors’ chair opposite hers.

            “I was under the impression we’d be having a private meeting.” He hissed, his eyes narrowing at Weasley who was now cracking his knuckles loudly in what he must’ve thought was a menacing gesture. The idea made Draco smirk and he could see Weasley’s ears redden slightly.

            “I don’t think so, Malfoy.” Weasley spat, “You’ve given us more than enough reasons not to trust you and I’m certainly not going to let you wander in here and speak to my wife alone.”

            Draco’s mirthless smile widened, “I was furthermore under the impression that this was Ms. Granger’s place of work, and that it is common protocol to take meetings at one’s place of work.”

He looked directly at Granger and continued, “I am grateful that you were able to make time to speak with me, but I’m afraid what I’ve come about is a matter of some delicacy, and if you will not be able to meet with me privately I will take up no more of your time.” He began turning slowly, _three, two, one…_

“Wait!” Hermione stood and Ron jumped to his feet as well. She turned to her husband and nodded gently, “I’ll be fine, Ron. He’s right, there’s no reason we can’t be perfectly civil to one another.” Weasley opened his mouth to protest but she gave him a look so reminiscent of McGonagall that he closed it again. Finally, with a grunt of frustration, Ron stormed past Draco, making sure that he trod on his foot before he slammed the door behind him.

            “Quite the gentleman.” Draco said coolly as he pulled out the visitor’s chair and took a seat.

            “Watch it, Malfoy.” Granger warned, her eyes narrowing, “I am not in the mood to listen to you abuse me or my friends.”

            “Yes, of course.” Draco said, “My apologies.”

            Hermione nodded curtly and resumed her seat as well, “Now, what is it that you needed to speak to me about? I imagine it must be urgent or you wouldn’t have reached out to me of all people.”  

            Draco felt stung by her words, even though he saw the truth of them. “I have been following your career in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. You’ve been doing good work.” He said, deciding it was best to ease into his query.

            Hermione looked surprised, but took it in stride, “Thank you, Draco. Though I’m certainly surprised to hear that you have taken an interest in my work.”

            “It’s an interest in the subject, if you must know.” He said flatly, unsure where she was going with this, “I have found myself, of late, very interested in the well being of magical creatures.”

            She nodded slowly, looking at him so intently it was as though she were trying to look right through him. “What is it exactly that brings you to see me today?”

            “I am looking for information related to a non-human matter and I felt you were someone who might have the knowledge I’m looking for.” He continued, “Obviously I also needed someone who I felt was trustworthy and, despite our animosity toward one another in the past, I know that you are a witch of the highest professional calibre.”

            Hermione cleared her throat slightly and steepled her fingers before her face. “You are aware, no doubt, that I am no longer with that department.” Draco nodded and she continued, “However, given your particular interest in discretion I will do what I can.”

            Draco nodded once more, he hadn’t thought this far ahead, _how much do I tell her? Everything?_ Deciding that there was little point in trying to hide his condition from Granger since she would certainly guess by the nature of his query he jumped right into it. “On the morning of the Battle of Hogwarts I was bitten and turned by a vampire who was operating on the Dark Lord’s orders to punish me for my family’s failures.” He said, watching her expression carefully. Her eyes widened a fraction of an inch, but she nodded for him to continue. “I have chosen to isolate myself from the vampire community and very few people know what I am. I would obviously like to keep it that way, which is where your discretion comes in.” Hermione made no move to interrupt him, so he continued, “I have studied my transformation extensively, however, there are still things that I do not fully understand, and one of these has recently been brought to my attention.”

            Hermione bit her lip, “May I ask… Why don’t you ask your sire for the answers you seek?”

            Malfoy smiled humourlessly, “He wouldn’t be able to help me… as I tore the creature’s throat out the moment I’d turned.”

            Hermione looked briefly taken aback by this news, but she nodded, far more understandingly than Draco had anticipated, “He had done a terrible thing without your consent.” She said solemnly. Draco blinked, uncertain what to say to that, and instead he nodded. “Well,” Hermione continued, “I have some knowledge about vampires, though of course, the best course of action would be for you to contact them directly, they would be able to give you unequivocal answers.”

Draco shook his head, “I am already an outcast, and I deserve it for what I’ve done, for the life I’ve lived, but I am not masochistic enough to subject myself to further ridicule and scorn for something I did not have any control over. Not yet.”

Hermione leaned back in her chair, “Very well, ask away. Although, if I’m unable to answer your question,” she looked at him with an open expression that he found a bit disarming, “will you give me permission to reach out to the vampire community here in London on your behalf? I will not give them your name, but if your own research hasn’t been of help it’s very possible that I will not be able to answer your enquiry.”

Draco considered this for a moment and then nodded. Granger smiled and he looked down at his knees, _how can she be so friendly toward me? I called her all manner of names, ridiculed her, hexed her, looked on silently while she was tortured._ He shuddered at the memory and looked back up to find her watching him closely. Draco cleared his throat, “It is a well-known legend that some humans have experienced… pleasure… while they are being fed from…” Granger nodded and he continued, “I, like many others, believed this to be a complete myth, told by young vampires to make humans more amicable to the bite.”

“That is the generally held belief.” Hermione confirmed.

“I was hoping you would know more about it. Are there any corroborated reports of this phenomenon? Is it a unique reaction by certain humans? Does it have lingering effects on the human’s physiological or psychological well-being?”

Hermione looked somewhat impressed and quickly jotted a few notes down on a piece of parchment on her desk, “I’m afraid I know very little about this. I do know, as you said, that it’s widely believed to be untrue, but if I recall correctly, both Afolayan and Heeren reported feeding from humans who had this reaction.” Draco nodded and she smiled uncertainly, “I wish I could be of more help, but I promise to do everything I can to find out more.”

Draco nodded, standing quickly, “Thank you, Granger. I know I’m probably the last person you’re inclined to do favours for, but I appreciate it.”

“Draco,” Granger stood slowly, her voice cautious, “Can I just ask you, are you asking because you’ve experienced this first-hand?”

Draco put on his most charming smile, “Pure academic curiosity, Granger. Nothing more” and without another word he swept from her office.

 

 

            Draco retraced his steps swiftly, but just before he reached the lift he paused, his senses suddenly heightened.

“Malfoy!” Potter’s voice rang through the corridor and Draco barely had time to turn to face him before the Auror threw him into the nearest wall, “Ron said he’d seen you! What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing here?” he growled, his green eyes flashing wildly.

Draco wrenched himself from Potter’s grip and straightened his robes haughtily, “I had an appointment with Granger.” He snapped. “It’s none of your concern.”

“It bloody well is my concern if you’re telling people about what happened between us.” Potter hissed, “I thought we agreed that we would both keep what we were doing to ourselves?”

Draco glared at him, “I didn’t come here for that, you git! I didn’t tell her anything. She has no idea that you even came to see me, unless you’ve told her.”

Potter’s expression softened slightly and he took a small step back, “You didn’t tell her?”

“Why would I tell her? I’m the one who’s got something to lose if you decide to call off our arrangement!” Draco hesitated, unsure if he’d said too much, “Which… you haven’t… have you?” he asked softly.

Potter adjusted his glasses, “I don’t know.” He mumbled. “Saturday was a bit… unexpected.”

“I know what you mean.” Malfoy muttered darkly, “Please, Potter, at least come back this weekend, we can discuss it then. Otherwise I’ll need to find someone else.”

Harry looked at him, his expression unreadable. “Fine.”

Draco looked at him quizzically, “Fine you’ll come on Saturday or fine I should find someone-”

“Fine I’ll come on Saturday. Same time.”

Draco nodded, “Oh and Potter?” added, as he turned and pressed the button for the lift, “Try to look presentable?”

He stepped into the lift as Potter flashed him a rude gesture, causing one of the witches already in the lift to scoff loudly. Draco smiled all the way up to the Atrium and joined the queue for the fireplaces.

 

***

 

Draco was siting in his garden on Thursday afternoon when an owl arrived with a letter from Granger.  

Dear Mr. Malfoy,

I have spoken to some of my contacts and have some more information to share with you at your earliest convenience.

 

Yours truly,

Hermione Ganger,

Department of Magical Law Enforcement

 

Draco hurried inside and quickly wrote out a reply,

 

Dear Ms. Granger

I can come to the ministry today, how late will you be working?

 

Draco Malfoy

He gave the owl a quick drink and found an owl pellet to offer him as well, before ushering him out the window. _She sounds confident, she must’ve found something!_ He stood by the window so long he lost track of time. He was just wondering how long it would take to hear back when suddenly he jumped, someone was calling his name, _someone in the house_.

Draco hurried into the library where, sure enough, Granger’s head was hovering amongst the flames. “Good afternoon Ms. Granger.” He said politely, drawing his chair closer to the fire and sitting opposite her head.

“Hello, Draco. I’ve just received your owl, but I’m afraid I’m only here for another half-hour. Would you be willing to discuss this further there once I’ve finished here?”

“Here at the manor?” he asked, sceptically.

“It’s hardly my first choice, but I suspect you’d find waiting until tomorrow unpalatable, and Ron certainly won’t allow you to come to our home. I don’t see any way around it.”

Draco nodded, he remembered the sight of her lying, weeping, on this very rug as his aunt had tortured her, using the Cruciatus curse over and over as Hermione had writhed on the floor before him. He also remembered the burning of the Mark as Bella summoned the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord’s wrath when he arrived to find the all of the prisoners escaped. “I understand, I do. Thank you.” Hermione nodded briefly and her head vanished from the fire. Draco looked around the room, suddenly tearful as he remembered his own fear, when his father had shoved Potter’s disfigured face in front of his own, begging him to identify him. _Of course it had been Potter, I would’ve recognized him if his whole head had been missing!_ Malfoy thought bitterly, _why wasn’t I brave enough to tell them it wasn’t him. None of this would’ve happened if I had just lied outright._ If he had lied, Bella would never have called the Dark Lord, he would never have ordered the attack on Draco in retaliation, and Draco would be just another lapsed Death Eater, a blemish on the wizarding world, but at least a mortal one.

 He waved his wand absentmindedly and the room tidied itself, the books returning to their rightful places on the shelves, and the scraps of parchment on which he had been taking notes vanished, returned to the desk in the corner of the room. Expecting the Granger would choose to travel by floo network, Draco pulled the chairs away from the fireplace and sat, waiting patiently, unmoving, for Granger to arrive.

When Granger stepped out of the fire Draco rose and shook her hand courteously, “Thank you again for coming. I know it can’t be easy to be back here…” He shook his head, and his words trailed of.

Hermione nodded tensely and took a seat opposite Draco. “I should start by telling you that there’s not a lot of information on this subject in circulation. I, like you, found nothing reliable in any of the published works on Vampires, and was forced to speak with several different vampire experts and advocates before I found anything remotely useful.” Draco was listening with rapt attention so she continued, “Essentially what I’ve been able to discover is that it is a real phenomenon, but it is tremendously rare. There have only been a few cases reported, and even fewer have been corroborated by others. I spoke to several healers, one of whom treated a woman who died of sustained blood loss due, in part, to this phenomenon. He explained to me that the humans who are affected in this way have a unique physiological trait where the bite triggers the release of endorphins, like it does for all humans, but in these humans specifically the endorphins somehow combine with the healing power found in vampire saliva and creates a euphoric and aphrodisiac-like sensation.”

Draco’s mind was racing, _it’s true, it really is possible- but is that what happened with Potter?_

“I have to warn you though, Draco,” Hermione continued, “It can be incredibly dangerous for the human who experiences this. Every recorded case eventually ends with the human’s death by blood loss.”

“How?” Draco asked, suddenly concerned.

“Well they overdo it, don’t they?” She explained, her eyes wide with apprehension, “They let themselves be fed from too frequently. To make matters worse, the condition also means that their fight or flight response is never triggered, even if the vampire takes too much.”

“But if the vampire refuses to feed from them too frequently…” Draco tried, his voice measured as he tried to read her expression.

“How long can that possibly last? I know that most vampires are able to control their urges, but you are essentially predators in the purest form, you must know that it would be nearly impossible to resist a human who was trying to force you to feed from them.” Draco nodded slowly, but could think of nothing to say to this. “The trouble is- most of these humans see the relationship as mutually beneficial, but the vampires I spoke to said that it’s not uncommon for you to feel particularly predatory when faced with situations like this. One of the Vampire archivists I spoke to said that most vampires would prefer they never encounter such a human… he said it makes them feel further from their own humanity.”

Draco sat silently for almost a minute. Granger said nothing, she simply watched him think. Finally, he stood, “Thank you. This has been more helpful than you know.”

“Malfoy?” Hermione’s voice had taken on a much direr tone, “You’ve come across a human who has this sort of reaction, haven’t you?”

Draco stood still for a moment before finally nodding, slowly, watching Granger’s face.

As he’d expected she pursed her lips, “I know I can’t tell you what to do, and if a human is a willing donor we have no legal authority to stop it, but it’s crucial that you proceed with the utmost caution, Draco. If you’re going to pursue a relationship with this person I want you to be absolutely certain you know what you’re doing,” She got to her feet and took a step toward the fire before she looked back and added, “And having a draught of blood-replenishing potion on hand would probably be wise.”

Draco smiled, “Thank you again… Hermione.”

Without another word she vanished into the flames and Draco was left alone with his thoughts.

 

***

 

Saturday evening came quickly once more and the Malfoy Manor smelled and felt more alive than it had in years. Three house elves were hard at work in the kitchen, laying out a delicious supper for one and, though he’d tried to reign them in, they’d insisted on sprucing up all of the rooms as well, giving even the master bedroom a through cleaning. Draco thanked them profusely as 6 o’clock rolled around and, with many hasty bows, they all returned to Hogwarts with loud cracks. He once more found himself standing stock-still in the entrance hall, the deep purple walls flickering in the candlelight as he waited for Potter’s arrival. _6:07… 6:08… What’s keeping him?_ Draco thought desperately, beginning to worry that something might’ve happened to him, but the sound of footsteps on the gravel drive shook Draco from his agonising. He strode quickly to the door and pulled it open before Potter had even reached the bottom step.

“Alright, Draco?” Potter faltered, basked in the pale light from the doorway. “Sorry I’m late. Got held up at work.”

Draco nodded, relieved to see Potter in once piece, _what a ridiculous overreaction,_ he scolded himself. He forced a smile and stepped aside to allow the now-dubious Potter inside. “There’s food prepared, if you’re hungry…” Draco offered, watching Potter’s back as he led the way down the corridor, stopping only at the door to the library.

“Did you make it?” Harry asked, suspiciously.

“Come now, Potter.” Draco’s drawling voice was mocking, “Do I look like I cook?”

He certainly didn’t. Tonight Draco was wearing a well-tailored black dress shirt with dark grey trousers and black boots with silver heels and fastenings. He looked a bit like a menswear model and Draco watched with satisfaction as Potter took in his appearance. Harry looked as though he had something to say but he evidently thought better of it and instead his face twisted into a sly smile, _what a cheeky bastard!_ Draco thought with delight as Potter turned and made his way into the dining room.

“Blimey!” Harry’s approval was well deserved, sat on the table before him was a spread that even Draco thought was a touch excessive. There was butterbeer, puddings, pies, a Swiss roll, biscuits, chicken, and sausage.  Harry looked quickly at Draco, “Will you be joining me?” he asked curiously, noticing that while only one place was set, two chairs had been placed at the long table.

“I think I’ll skip the main course,” Draco said darkly, “I’ve always been more partial to dessert, myself.” He could hear Potter’s heartbeat speed up at his words and it took all of his considerable willpower to keep himself from grinning.

Harry sat down at the table and Draco felt Potter’s eyes on him as he, too, took a seat.

“Do tuck in.” Draco said casually and Potter didn’t need telling twice.

Harry helped himself to a slice of chicken, several sausages, and a particularly scrumptious looking treacle tart. Between bites he glanced up at Draco, “you’re immortal now, aren’t you?” he asked curiously, taking a swig of butterbeer as Draco watched him.

“Essentially. Vampires can be killed, as I’m sure you know from your line of work.” Harry chuckled but said nothing as he tucked into a second sausage. “But no, I won’t die of old age. Nor will my body age beyond this point.”

“Must be nice,” Harry said absentmindedly as he ate.

“How so?” Draco was watching him carefully now.

“I mean; you can do anything you want. If there’s something you fancy, you have all the time in the world to give it a go.” He shrugged, “Play quidditch professionally, become minister of magic, travel the world…” Potter’s voice trailed off but Draco could see that his mind was far from done with this line of inquiry.

“Is that what you want to do? A bit of everything?” Draco asked, but to his surprise Potter shook his head.

“No, not me. I mean, if I was immortal, maybe.” He sighed, “I’ve had more than enough excitement in my one lifetime. I’d like to settle down somewhere, I’ve got a few more years to give the Ministry, maybe take a leadership position in the Auror Department, but after that I’m done. No more heroics.”

Draco scoffed, “Right, Potter.”

Potter looked up at him defiantly, “What're you on about?”

“The day Harry Potter stops saving the world? _I_ may not live to see it.” Draco laughed. “You couldn’t even pass up the opportunity to save me, over and over when we were younger, especially in that last year, and now- you still keep on saving me. You hate me but you can’t help yourself.”

Potter’s voice was quiet when he spoke, “I don’t hate you. Not anymore.” He set down his fork and knife and looked at Draco with complete honesty in his face, “I hate what you were. I hate who your parents raised you to be, but even then, even during the War I could see you fighting it. You had more than one opportunity to kill me or hand me over to Voldemort,” He frowned slightly as Draco winced, “but you didn’t. Even your wand didn’t hate me. When Ollivander told me that the one I’d felt most comfortable with was yours I began to wonder if you didn’t trust me more than you let on.”

Draco didn’t say anything and after a moment Potter returned to his meal. “Why didn’t you get back together with Ginny?” Draco asked after a moment.

Potter smiled, “she’d moved on. The War was hard on their family, loosing her brother… I didn’t want to intrude. By the time everything had settled down for them it was different between us. She’d fought alongside the rest of the students, it strengthened her more than she realized and I think she was ready to put it all behind her.”

Draco nodded, he’d always thought they were a strange pair, not as strange as Weasley and Granger, but he had been curious about whether or not Ginny had pined for Harry after the Battle.

“How about you, Draco? Any plans to settle down, start a family?” His cheerful smile faded as suddenly as it had appeared, “Unless… Can you-” Potter’s cheeks reddened and Draco gave him what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“It wasn’t a part of my plans, regardless. I can’t have someone like that. Not anymore.”

Harry’s eyes were uncomprehending, “What do you mean?”

“I mean I’m hardly on the market anymore, am I? It’s one thing to pull a bloke in a pub, but it’s something entirely different to imagine settling down with someone.”

“So you’ve just written it off? Entirely?” Harry asked, his voice incredulous. “But you’re immortal, Malfoy! You could live hundreds of years!”

Draco was surprised by his response; _he’s upset… why would it make any difference to him at all?_ “Precisely! I’m immortal! Even if I did manage to find someone who accepted me for who, and what, I am, I’d eventually be faced with the choice of loosing them or turning them.” His eyes were vacant, lifeless as he imagined it, “I couldn’t do that to someone. I couldn’t make them make that choice.”

Harry watched him thoughtfully for a moment, but when he spoke his voice was once again casual, “Have you ever tried to contact Andromeda?”

Draco’s brow furrowed, “It hardly felt right…” His mother had rarely spoken of her other sister and Draco knew very little about her, apart from that Bella had been the one to kill her daughter, he’d heard his mother whispering about it with his father the morning after the Battle.

“She’s your aunt! And Teddy….” Potter’s voice trailed off again, “I think it would be good for Teddy to know you.

Draco shook his head; _I would ruin that child._

“Well,” Potter said, a bit more roughly than Draco had expected, “You should think about it. Everyone should have the opportunity to know their family.” His eyes flashed as he took another swig of butterbeer.

“You were raised by family, but as I recall you didn’t like them much.” Draco ventured, unsure what to make of the strange accusations Potter seemed to be hurling at him.

“They were cruel to me. They kept me locked away for months at a time. They fed me as little as the could without starving me and did nothing to stop my cousin from treating me like his own personal punching bag.” Harry spat. “I don’t think that family is invariably kind, but you’re not like the Dursleys; you’re not cruel anymore. You’d be good for Teddy.”

Draco had heard rumours about Harry’s muggle family, but he had never heard the extent to which they had neglected and abused him. He made a mental note that it might be worth paying them an unexpected visit one of these days.

“Come on,” Potter said suddenly, setting down his utensils and rising from his seat, “I’m absolutely stuffed, let’s clean this up.”

“No need, it’ll be taken care of.” Draco waved his hand disinterestedly.

“No, Draco.” Potter said, gathering a handful of plates and shoving them into Draco’s unsuspecting arms. “I said, let’s clean this up.”

Draco glared at Potter who was now carrying several more plates through to the kitchen. Draco followed him reluctantly and stopped in his tracks as Potter set them down beside the sink and began to run the water as he rummaged around in the cupboards for something.

“Surely you don’t actually want to do this?” he whinged, dropping his own pile of dishes atop the rest of the pile.

Potter laughed, “Sure I do, I enjoy doing the washing up. It’s soothing.” Draco’s disgust must’ve been evident on his face because Potter grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him over to the sink. “Here,” he said, handing Draco a sponge, “you can wash and I’ll rinse and dry.”

Draco looked at the dishes, unsure where to start when he suddenly froze, Potter’s hand had left his wrist, and now Potter was standing directly behind him and both of his hands were on Draco’s waist.

“It’s not difficult,” Potter muttered in his ear, “I’ll show you.” He took his hands from Draco’s waist and slipped them beneath his arms, taking the topmost plate as if he were the one standing in front of the sink. Then Potter took Draco’s hand that was holding the sponge into his own and began slowly rubbing it in circles against the plate.

Behind him he could feel Harry’s warmth through his shirt, pressed up against him, with his strong muscles flexing with every motion his hand made. Against his arse he felt Potter’s erection growing, pressing into him firmly as Harry’s body rocked them together.

“What are you doing, Potter” Draco’s voice was barely a whisper, but Potter nipped his earlobe in reply, pulling a moan from Draco’s shivering body. “You’d better be careful, Potter. You’re playing with fire.”

In response to that Harry wrapped one of his arms tightly around Draco’s waist, forcing their bodies together as he grinded against the vampire’s body, “You’re forgetting, _Draco,_ ” his name practically dripped from Potter’s lips as his warm breath whispered against Draco’s ear, “I’ve fought plenty of dragons. The fire doesn’t frighten me.”

Draco whirled around suddenly, dropping the plate and sponge in the sink with a clatter as he pulled Potter against tight his chest, his face buried in the man’s neck, just breathing in his scent.

“Why don’t we go up to your room?” Harry gasped, arching into Draco’s body, “You can try to make me see reason.”

“I have to feed first,” Draco moaned, the words escaping his lips like a desperate plea.

“You can do it after, or during…” Potter said quickly, his hand reaching down to cup Draco when he froze.

“No, Potter.” He brought his own hand to cover Harry’s, still resting, suddenly uncertain, on the fabric covering his lifeless prick, “it’s been a week since I had fresh blood in my system. I mean I _have to feed first._ ” The look of comprehension dawned on the other man’s face and he nodded, his pupils dilated as he looked into Draco’s own grey eyes.

“Oh! Because of the blood…” He nodded, “lead the way.” He said simply, running a hand through his already messy hair and turning off the tap with a flick of his wand over his shoulder as he followed Draco quickly out of the Kitchen.

 

They stumbled into Draco’s room as Harry pulled him close, kissing him fiercely as they fell back onto the bed.

“Wait, wait!” Draco gasped, his eyes wide as Harry fumbled with the buttons on his shirt. The frantic fingers paused and Draco watched as Potter took a deep breath, “We can’t rush this part. I’m sorry.” He added. “You react differently to the bite than anyone I’ve ever encountered. It means you won’t be able to put me off if get carried away, so I have to be fully present.” Draco shook his head as if to clear it and gently helped Harry lie back in the same position as he had the week before. “Tell me when you’re ready-” he began, but Harry cut him off,

“I’m ready. Do it.” Potter’s voice was husky, restless, and he leaned up to kiss Draco again in the time it took for him to reply.  

Draco frowned as he broke away from the kiss, _he’s too eager, this is dangerous._ He imagined Granger’s face if she could see how reckless he was being, _there’s nothing else for it, you can feed from him no matter what his state is, you just have to be careful,_ he warned himself.

Slowly he lowered himself to Harry’s side, he let his lips trace the man’s jaw and make their way down to his neck once more. “Try to relax.” He said, as much to himself as to Potter.

He felt the sharp pains in his mouth as his fangs lengthened and with one last moment of clarity he thought how odd it was that the two of them, of all people, were now sprawled on his bed together. He placed an open mouth kiss over his carotid artery and bit down hard on the auror’s neck. Once more the blood filled his mouth, filled his mind, filled his senses. He paid attention this time, and heard Potter crying out wantonly as he drank deeply from the man’s neck. He kept his eyes closed, but he could feel Potter writing in his arms, _what a strange sensation,_ he mused, usually when he fed from someone they went limp, listless in his arms, but Potter seemed to come alive. He swallowed mouthful after mouthful of Harry’s warm blood and felt his own body awakening with it’s power. He felt his cheeks flush, felt his head clear, and felt his prick begin to harden.

He sucked harder, and heard Harry gasp once more, his moans filling the air as Draco forced himself to listen carefully for Potter’s heartbeat. _I can’t focus,_ he thought desperately, unable to hear the nuances of the human’s heart over the beautiful and passionate sounds escaping his lips. Finally, he brought one of his hands up to Potter’s mouth and covered it firmly, able, for the first time to hear the slightly elevated heart rate. The predator inside of him urged him to just finish the job, but he dutifully ran his tongue over the wounds, swallowing hard as the last of Potter’s spilled blood seeped through his lips.

He brought his head up and looked at Harry. At some point Potter’s hand had snaked its way into his trousers and it was now sliding back and forth steadily as Potter, his eyes closed tight, breathed heavily through his nose. Draco gently removed his hand from Potter’s mouth and he was rewarded with a long, sustained moan. _Bloody hell, he’s hot like this!_ He was fully hard, himself now and he decided it was high time to do something about it. With strength that surpassed even that of the auror beneath him he pulled Potter’s hand from his trousers. Harry’s eyes snapped open as he groaned in protest, Draco smirked, “I was going to take over, but if you’d rather do it yourself…” Potter’s eyes widened and his lips parted, his breathing heavy. He nodded quickly and Draco made quick work of unfastening his trousers and yanking down the zip. He leant down and kissed Potter’s prick softly through the fabric of his pants, and Potter rewarded him with a deep groan. Using one hand to trace its outline, he slowly hooked one finger of the other into his waistband, pulling them down slowly as Harry’s cock jutted out proudly from his body. Draco realized Potter’s eyes were on him as he brought his lips to the tip and licked away the bead of fluid that had accumulated there. He pulled softly on Potter’s foreskin with one hand as he let his tongue slip between the foreskin and the glans. Potter cried out and grabbed Draco’s hair tightly. “Merlin! Draco that’s…” He gasped, unable to continue as Draco continued to work Potter’s prick in his mouth. He took more of Harry into his mouth, moaning slightly as he sucked, and the hand in his hair tightened, “Draco! I’m already so close!” He moaned in reply and once again returned to the tip, using one hand to massage him while his tongue made gentle, tight circles just under his foreskin. His other hand flew to his own prick, which he palmed roughly through his trousers. Potter gasped out a warning, and released Draco’s hair, clearly expecting him to pull off, but Draco smiled coyly, looking up at Potter as he gave him one last suck and held his gaze as he fell over the edge. Draco swallowed hastily and gently pulled off, wiping his lips with the back of his hand as he looked up at Potter. Harry looked absolutely wrecked, his pupils were so dilated that Draco could hardly see the emerald in them at all, his lips were bright red and the lower lip was bleeding slightly from where he’d been biting it. Unable to resist, Draco leaned up quickly and captured his mouth in a rough kiss, tasting the blood before he sealed the wound with his tongue. “You’re a vision, Potter” he breathed, still rutting against his own hand.

Potter’s hand flew quickly to his wrist and he pushed Draco back onto the bed, “My turn.” He whispered, his trembling hands fumbling to free Draco’s prick. He rolled over on top of Draco and ran his hands fiercely over his still-clothed chest, before he slipped Draco’s pants from his hips and took his length into his hand.

Draco had been expecting muddled inexperience from Potter, but it became clear in an instant that he had done this before. He twisted his hand as he worked his way up and down Draco’s shaft, pulling an unexpected moan from his lips as he lowered his mouth over Draco’s prick. Draco was not nearly as passive as Potter had been and immediately arched up into the warm mouth, causing Potter to pull back in surprise. “Sorry!” Draco gasped, but Potter put a finger to Draco's lips and took him into his mouth once more, alternating between suction and running his tongue confidently along the underside as Draco continued to thrust up into his mouth. Potter tried to remove his finger from his lips after a moment, but the vampire caught his wrist before he was able to pull it away and eagerly sucked one of Harry’s fingers into his own mouth, earning him a moan that vibrated deeply on his pulsing cock.

“I’m close, Potter.” Draco warned, nipping playfully at the finger still in his mouth as his thrusts became more erratic. Potter pulled his hand away from Draco then and placed both hands firmly on his hips to pin him to the bed. Draco moaned in frustration but the moan turned quickly to a gasp as Potter increased both his speed and suction until Draco’s eyes fluttered closed and he spilled himself into Potter’s eager mouth with a cry. The whole room seemed to slide in and out of focus as Draco tried to maintain his grip on reality, _am I imagining it, or did Harry Potter just suck me off?_

Potter sat up, fastening his own trousers as he did so and Draco watched his face spread into a broad smile, “You know, you’re not bad at that.”

Draco returned his smile, “You’re not bad yourself. Where did you learn to suck a cock like that, Potter?” he asked with feigned innocence.

“I’ve had a bit of practice.” Potter shrugged as he slumped back down onto the bed next to Draco.

“I’ll say!” Draco sighed, not remotely interested in refastening his own trousers.

“Hey, Draco?” Potter’s voice sounded suddenly concerned, and Draco turned his head to look at him, “You said, before you fed, that I react _unusually_ to the bite… what did you mean?”

Draco rolled back to stare at the ceiling, “Why don’t you stay the night, Potter? I’ll tell you in the morning.”


	3. Extenuating Circumstances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the huge delay, I got caught up with work! I'll try to finish it before the end of this year!
> 
> Bit shorter, and this time without the smut (plenty coming in the next chapter, don't worry).

When Draco awoke, he didn’t realize just how important today would be. He woke to Potter’s soft snoring beside him and smirked, it’s a good thing my parents already disowned me, because if they hadn’t yet I’m sure bringing home The Chosen One would’ve done the trick. He watched Potter’s chest rise and fall for a few minutes before climbing silently out of bed to make his way downstairs. Draco, after slipping his own dressing gown on, laid out a spare on the bed for Harry to wear when he woke up.  
He reached the bottom of the stairs and made his way into the kitchens, “Daisy? Marigold?” He called, and a loud crack split the silence in the house as the elves appeared.

“We is here, Master Draco!” squeaked Marigold, by far the more tenacious of the two.

“Good morning to both of you,” Draco said, ignoring the anxious trembling by Daisy, “I have a guest who will be needing breakfast. He’s going to want something with plenty of iron. He’s got to keep up his strength.” Draco added.  
Daisy squeaked in fear, clearly his meaning hadn’t been lost on the elves, but Marigold nodded eagerly, “We is cooking a wonderful breakfast for Master Draco’s friend!”  
Draco shook his head, “I know this will be difficult, but do try to keep it simple, eggs on toast or something of the like. He doesn’t want you to go to too much trouble.”

“It is being no trouble!” Marigold squeaked, shocked at the implication.

“Yes, I understand. He’s Kreacher’s master though, so he’s hardly used to service beyond the call of duty.”  
The elves exchanged knowing looks and hurried off to the kitchen. Draco glanced up the stairs and listened for a moment, still asleep. He bit his lip anxiously, _I hope I didn’t take too much… I hope I didn’t hurt him._  He knew, objectively, that he hadn't, but he remembered Granger's warning. He retreated to the library once more, he hadn’t had a chance the night before to purchase a blood-replenishing potion so he pulled one of his many advanced potion-making books from the shelves and perused the index until he found what he was looking for. He carried the book through a small door near the fireplace into his storecupboard. He held the book open in one hand, gathering ingredients off of the shelves with the other. _Why is he letting me do this anyway, he mused? I suppose it make sense once he realized how much he got off on it, but that first day- he came here to accuse me of returning to my old ways and left with an agreement to keep me from having to go to any extra trouble to feed._ He wondered whether it was as simple as Potter being his usual selfless-self or if something else was at work.  
He had nearly completed the potion when he heard stirring from the room above him. He tapped the base of the cauldron with his wand, lowering the heat to the proper level and checked the instructions once more, allowing it to simmer as he slipped back through the library to greet Potter at the bottom of the stairs.

“I didn’t hear you get up.” Potter said, his voice more strained than Draco had been expecting, “I woke up and I thought you’d left.”

Draco smiled uncertainly, “I hadn’t left, just had some things to do. Breakfast should be ready if you’d like to go through to the dining room.”

Harry sighed, “You called the elves back?”

“Look, Mr. Secretary, I have spoken to both of my elves at length about their desires, both have expressed the desire to remain on as loyal servants, despite my offers to free them or allow them to remain at Hogwarts full-time.” Potter looked as though he was going to say something so Draco added, quickly, “House elves fear and despise vampires, Daisy won’t even look at me anymore, but she still wants to maintain her position here in the Malfoy Household, that’s how I know she is not feeling coerced. She must genuinely want it.”

Potter scoffed, “Or she’s been brainwashed through a lifetime, hell, generations, of servitude.”

“You may be right, but there’s nothing for it now- they’ve already made the food. If you don’t want to eat it that’s your prerogative.” He snapped.

Potter sighed loudly, “Fine. Will you join me?” He asked softly.

Draco nodded, “I have something to finish up first, but then I’ll be in.”

He turned on his heel and strode back into the storeroom. He checked the small hourglass beside his potion, only a few beads remained and he quickly extinguished the flame, readying a small glass vial. The final bead slipped through and he siphoned some of the potion into the tiny container, double checking that the thin, light red appearance matched the book’s description. He stowed the vial in the pocket of his dressing gown and cast a preserving charm on the contents of the cauldron, making a mental note to come back after Potter had left to bottle the remainder.

When he reached the dining room Potter was already halfway through his first plateful.

“How do you manage to eat so much? I remember more than once watching you put away plate after plate in the Great Hall and wondering where it all managed to go.”

Harry shrugged as he took another bite of sausage.

“I have something for you.” Draco took the potion out of his pocket and set it down beside Potter’s glass of pumpkin juice. “It’s a blood-replenishing potion.” He explained, “It’s just a half-dose, your body is completely capable of replenishing its own supply, but this may help with any light-headedness you experience in the meantime.”  
Harry picked up the vial suspiciously, but after a moment he uncorked the potion and, nodding, downed it in a single gulp. “Draco?”

“Yes?”

“Tell me what you meant last night.” Potter’s voice was measured, even, but his eyes betrayed his anxiety. “Tell me what you meant when you said I react differently to the bite.”  
Draco sighed, “It’s complicated, but what you… feel… during… other people don’t react that way.” Potter’s cheeks reddened, but he didn’t break eye contact as Draco continued, “That’s why I went to speak to Granger. Don’t worry-” he added quickly, seeing Harry’s murderous expression, “I didn’t tell her who, just that I had met someone who had found the bite… pleasurable.” Harry’s face was still uncertain, but he let Draco go on uninterrupted, “She confirmed that it’s incredibly rare, but not unheard of, for a human to find the bite erotic, and… well, stimulating.” He could hear Potter’s heartbeat quickening, and he fought the instinct to breathe in his scent.

“So… you didn’t know this would happen?” Potter asked hesitantly.

“Not at all, I’d always thought it was a myth that vampires told humans to trick them into feeding us. I’d never met anyone with a reaction like yours. I assumed it would be uncomfortable for both of us… I certainly never expected…” His eyes flicked down Potter’s body before he could stop himself.

“So what does this mean? Is this a bad thing…” Potter hesitated, “It seems like it makes the whole situation win-win…”

“It’s not that simple!” Draco snapped, unsure why he was suddenly so agitated. “It means that whatever happens between us… whatever’s already happened… It means that none of it’s real.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry’s brows knit together, now looking almost as angry Draco felt.

“I’m talking about the fact that last night was the second time that the Chosen One has come in my bed and I don’t think he even realizes that he might not want what he thinks he wants.”

“Don’t be a prick, of course I know what I want. I’m not a child.” Harry’s voice took on a cautionary tone, his eyes betraying his anger.

“You may think you do, but I’m not entirely convinced that you’re capable of consent when you’ve been fed from.” Draco’s voice was soft and level, but he knew his words would strike a nerve.

“Hasn’t seemed to stop you these last two weeks!” Harry spat. He chuckled the empty vial at Draco and glared at him with a malice that Draco had hoped was long gone.

 _He expects a fight. He doesn’t realize how serious this is._ Draco shook his head, “You’re not going to bait me, Potter.” He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, “I know you feel like this is somehow personal, but I assure you- it’s not. I’m worried about your safety. It’s not meant to be patronising, but I’m the one who could seriously harm you. Your safety is more important than whatever this arrangement may offer you.”

Harry sighed, “Draco, look,” he pushed his plate aside and folded his hands on the table, “I understand what you’re saying. I would be cautious, too in your position. However,” His expression was earnest and open, “I’m not doing anything I wouldn’t have considered, regardless of the bite’s effect.”

“I don’t believe you, Potter.” Draco sighed, he trusted Harry’s intentions, but he wasn’t sure there was any way he could trust his emotions, especially after experiencing the bite twice.

Without warning, Harry stood and pushed his chair from the table. “Fine, Malfoy. If you don’t trust me, I’m clearly the wrong human for this _arrangement_ of yours.” Draco opened his mouth to protest, but Potter was already storming down the hall. He heard his footsteps take the stairs two at a time, and briefly wondered if he should intercept him before he’d had a chance to change and leave. _It’s his own bloody fault that he couldn’t listen to reason._ A few moments later he heard the front door slam and Draco realized in the silence that followed that the manor felt emptier than ever.

***

Harry’s mood hadn’t much improved by lunchtime. He wasn’t only angry that he’d been rejected, but by Draco Malfoy, of all people! He was seething at the thought that he’d opened up to him, only to have him declare that he knew what was best for Harry. His whole life he’d had to put up with people deciding what he should do. Free will had always been a shadow of a thought to “The Boy Who Lived”, his teenaged rebellions being his only way to defy the rigid expectations of everyone around him. He stretched his arms above his head as he looked out the small window onto his garden. Even now, I can’t be expected to know what I want.  
A moving shape in his peripherals caught his attention and he opened the window just in time for a small owl to swoop into his kitchen. He quickly untied the Ministry-sealed parchment and read:

**Harry, we found them. Come in.**

He recognized Ron’s untidy scrawl and summoned his ministry robes before stepping into the fireplace. He made his way to the Aurors’ offices quickly, dodging several small witches with muggle shopping trolleys filled with what appeared to be jelly. He fought aside his curiosity and knocked once on Ron’s office door before stepping inside.

“The Devouring?” He asked as soon as he closed the door.

“Yeah, mate. We know who’s leading it!” Ron’s voice was humming with excitement and Harry couldn’t help but feel like they were back at Hogwarts planning some new bought of rule-breaking.

“Who?” He asked, eagerly.

“It’s Greyback.” Ron said, solemnly. Harry knew that the Weasleys almost never said his name these days. “He’s still in hiding and we’ve just gotten a report that he’s been seeking out non-human creatures to join him. He’s raising an army, Harry.”

“Is he turning them himself?” Harry asked, pulling a chair up to Ron’s desk.

“Don’t think so. He’s still pretty deep underground. Apparently there’s been a rash of reports by other werewolves and vampires and the like of dark wizards approaching them, wanting to be turned. Some of them even came close, apparently they’ve been coached on what to say, how to make their request more appealing.”  
Harry felt himself pale. _Draco. Killough came on to him at Allsop’s. He suggested that Draco feed from him… he probably tried to convince him to turn him… What if…_ There was a soft ringing in Harry’s ears, _If he had… would he have told me?_

“Harry?” The ringing stopped abruptly and Harry looked at Ron with surprise, “you checked out, mate. Everything alright?” Ron’s voice was cautious, but clearly concerned.

“Yeah…” Ron was absolutely the last person Harry wanted to find out about his arrangement with Malfoy. “So when they approach the werewolves and such, do they know who they’re looking for? Is Greyback going after them too?” Is Draco in danger?

“We’re not sure. Some of the folks we’ve talked to have been worried that they’ve been outed… that others are going to approach them now that Greyback knows who they are.” Harry’s mind was racing, “We’ve been asked to put some protective details on them, or move them to safehouses.”  
He performed the memory charm. Harry’s relief was almost tangible, _Even if Killough was in contact with Greyback, he wouldn’t remember who he’d approached… He wouldn’t be able to mention Malfoy’s name._ Ron was still talking about their plans to protect the non-human targets, _but if Malfoy was turned on Voldemort’s orders, Greyback may well have known about it. He could be hoping to recruit him, or planning to force him to turn others._ Realizing just how unsafe Draco was, Harry stood, “let’s make sure the protection is in place by this afternoon. Whatever they prefer, but we should make sure they know that they’re not safe until we’ve dealt with Greyback.”

“Yeah, but how are we going to find him?” Ron sounded tired and Harry wondered how he, himself had so much energy. _Must be adrenaline_.

“That’s obviously our top priority. Let’s see who’s on tonight, surely we could put together some recon teams.”

He and Ron spent the next few hours planning their next steps in the hunt for Greyback. Finally, just after 4, Harry found himself hurrying toward the Atrium. He’d already made up his mind that he didn’t need to go home first, instead he threw a handful of floo powder into the fire, “Malfoy Manor”.

***

Draco had nearly forgotten to bottle the remaining potion. It was mid-afternoon as he stood in the storeroom, briefly considering banishing the lot, before his good sense got the better of him and he began portioning the potion out into small vials. _No sense wasting perfectly good potion._ Even if Potter didn’t agree to see him again, he’d be able to give it to whomever next satisfied his hunger.  
The familiar sound of the rushing fire caught his attention, and he hastily stepped out of the storecupboard, running directly into Harry, who was covered in soot and looked frantic.

“What are you doing here, Potter?” Malfoy sneered, but no sooner had he gotten the words out than Harry’s lips crashed into his own. He gasped, but Potter’s arm snaked around his waist, pulling him close as he deepened the kiss. Draco had every intention of fighting it, really he did, but Harry was a surprisingly good kisser and he realized after about a minute of senseless snogging that he probably wasn’t putting up enough of a fight.

“Potter!” Draco gasped, pulling himself away from Harry, “Merlin! What was that about?”

“I’m glad you’re alright.” Harry said, his hand smoothing down Draco’s back, chasing a shiver of arousal along his spine.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His voice was suddenly suspicious. _Potter leaves in a huff this morning and then reappears hours later glad that I’m not hurt… Bloody hell. He’s told someone about us. Someone he expected to come hurt me!_ “What did you do?”

“Me?” Harry sounded surprised, “I didn’t do anything!” He quickly filled Draco in on what he’d learned about The Devouring that morning at the office.

“So they want to turn as many witches and wizards as possible? They’re trying to… what? Recruit?” Draco’s expression remained blank, but he couldn’t help the note of apprehension in his voice.

“Essentially.” Harry’s nod was somber, “They send witches and wizards to known werewolves and vampires and have them try to talk them into turning them… once they have, they return to Greyback. We don’t know what happens after that. It’s possible they would return for the sire… force them to turn others, I don’t know.” His voice trailed off as he saw the look on Draco’s face.

“Draco, when you had Cahir Killough over here… did you…? Did he?”

“He asked.” Draco admitted, “I told him no. I told him I’m never going to sire anyone. Not after what was done to me.”

“And you’re sure your memory charm will hold?” Harry asked anxiously.

“I’m a skilled wizard, Potter. It wasn’t exactly complicated magic. Besides,” he added, “I’ve done it a hundred times.”

Harry froze and looked at him with a mixture of surprise and worry, “A hundred?”

Draco sighed, “Fine, not a hundred. But a few times.”

“Do you always fuck them?” Harry’s voice was strange, as if he needed more moisture in his throat.

“Not always, but usually.” Draco nodded, “It’s hard to bring a bloke back without that promise.” He shrugged, “Besides, it’s not like I had any plans of finding a steady…” _blimey, I almost said ‘partner’…_ “donor.”

“But if you wiped their memories, surely it wouldn’t matter if you’d had sex or not.” Harry offered.

Draco, in spite of himself, laughed. “It’s not like _I_ forget. I quite like the feeding, but it’s also the only time I ever stand a chance of being able to pull with someone anymore. Even you,” he paused, this was dangerous territory, “you only let me get you off last night because I drank your blood.”

“What if…” Draco noticed that Harry’s heart rate had increased significantly, “what if I wanted you to do more than that?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, “I can’t feed from you again so soon, Harry.”

“I’m not asking you to, Draco.” He brought his hand up to Draco’s face and ran it gently along his cheekbone, “I’m asking you to do other things to me…”

“Such as?” Draco felt his prick stirring, it was a nice change to be this close to someone so recently after having fed.

Harry leant in close and let his lips brush Draco’s ear as he whispered, “I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Without another word he turned and left the room. Draco heard him climbing the stairs and he took a steadying breath, _Harry Potter wants you to follow him upstairs and fuck him. As if that isn’t a fantasy you had every day for 7 years._ He was half-hard now and had no choice but to follow.


	4. Banter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure porn with a tiny bit of fluff.

Draco took the stairs slowly, _no need to rush. For once in his life, The Chosen One can wait._ He wished, not for the first time, that he had a reflection. Anxiously smoothing down his hair as he reached the landing, Draco took a deep and calming breath. _This time he’ll be fully conscious, he’ll know what he’s doing, and I’ll finally know if this is what he really wants._

Draco pushed open the door slowly, fully expecting Harry to be waiting for him in some dramatic fashion. _Great tosser is probably posing naked on the bed._ When the door opened, however, there was no one inside. Draco paused, uncertain, and listened carefully. _He’s nearby,_ he thought, _I can hear him breathing._

“You know there’s no use hiding from a predator…” he breathed, his voice soft and foreboding. _There._ Somewhere nearby he heard Harry’s heartbeat quicken. _He’s frightened… or excited._ “You know I can hear your heart beating. Your breathing.” He took several steps into his room, listening carefully. “I can smell your blood, Potter.” He smirked as he took a few more steps, the door to his ensuite bathroom was ajar, “You smell delicious.”

It was the small intake of breath that gave Harry away, but by that point, he’d achieved his goal. Draco was no longer just anticipating sex, he was on the prowl. _The bloody idiot’s triggered my predatory instincts._ Harry was sat on the bathroom counter wearing nothing but his pants and a stupid grin on his face. As Draco pushed the door open he made to hop off the counter, but Draco stepped forward and put a hand squarely on his chest. “You made me hunt for you, Potter.” His voice was barely more than a whisper and he could feel from the shiver in Harry’s skin that it was having the desired effect. “Never” he said, pushing Harry roughly back into the wall behind him, “make”, he punctuated the word by slapping his palms down on Harry’s bare thighs, “a predator”, he leaned in, his face mere centimeters from Harry’s, “hunt you.” he finished, consuming Harry in a rough kiss that knocked his head back against the marble wall. Harry’s tongue snaked past Draco’s lips and the kiss deepened, as Draco slowly ran his hands up The Chosen One’s thighs.

“Merlin, Draco.” Harry gasped, “Your mouth!”

Draco smirked, “Do you like it, Potter?” Harry nodded, resting his head on Draco’s shoulder, “How would you like it somewhere else?”

Harry’s head snapped up quickly and his eyes met Draco’s, dark and eager. Draco didn’t hesitate for a second, lifting Harry off the countertop and carrying him to the bed. “You know, Potter, I quite fancied you in school”, he said, conversationally, as he straightened up and began to strip slowly and methodically, hanging up each item of finely-tailored clothing as he removed it.

“Really?” Potter looked taken aback, _did he really not know?_ Draco wondered.

“Really.” He turned his back to Harry as he hung up his shirt. He honestly didn’t know whether or not he could blush, but he certainly didn’t want to risk it right now, “I imagine everyone did, at some point or another.” He unfastened his trousers, “It was in Madame Hooch’s first lesson. Watching you fly. When you caught Longbottom’s rememberall in midair. It was amazing. I went to that first quidditch match with a pair of maroon socks on,” he confessed, turning to face Harry as he dropped his trousers to the floor. “They were the closest things to Gryffindor colors I had.” He watched a sickening smile spread across Harry’s face and pointed at the other man’s pants, “Those. Off. Now.” Harry rushed to comply and he, too, stepped out of the silk pair he’d chosen for the day.

Potter now lay completely bare on the bed before him, his half-hard length causing Draco’s chest to flutter. _How is he so beautiful?_ “Come on, Draco. You promised you’d put that mouth of yours somewhere more exciting. Or do you need instruction?”

“You know I keep my promises, Potter.” Draco said with a smirk, joining The Chosen One on the bed. He knelt at the foot of the bed, just between Harry’s feet. Without warning, Draco grabbed Harry’s legs and yanked him toward himself, “and I think you’ll find I know precisely what I’m doing”. Draco took his time, he stroked himself gently while he looked at The Boy Who Lived, arse in the air, shivering with anticipation. “Merlin’s beard, you’re beautiful like this.” He whispered, scooting back farther on the bed so that he could rest his head on Harry’s thighs. “How much do you know about human anatomy?” Draco mused, licking his finger and lightly teasing Harry’s tight hole. _I’m going to make him come undone._

Harry gasped, his eyes shut tight and his breathing shallow. “What do I know about anatomy?” He sounded positively distraught, “Draco! Just fuck me already!”

Draco ignored him and began tracing a line along his inner thigh. “This is where the femoral artery’s found.” He swallowed, forcing himself to think about anything other than the smell of Harry’s blood. “It’s a favorite of many vampires, particularly because of its proximity to this,” he ducked his head quickly and licked a long stripe up Harry’s prick. “And these,” He repeated the motion, this time clasping Harry’s bollocks in his hand and squeezing gently. “And this, of course.” He shot a quick smile up at the debauched auror as he lowered his head, his breath ghosting over the tight hole. _I’ve been waiting for this for a decade_ he thought desperately as he leaned forward, his tongue giving the small entrance a cheeky swipe. Harry arched up, moaning loudly and Draco smiled, _Merlin he’s needy!_ he thought. But he certainly had no qualms about obliging him. He spread Harry’s cheeks apart and began with little teasing licks around his hole before finally pressing the flat of his tongue against Harry’s opening.

“Draco!” Harry’s whinging voice filled the room and Draco couldn’t help but chuckle.

“You like this, Potter?” He asked in his best sneering voice. _Just like we’re back in school._ He gently pushed the tip of his tongue into Harry’s entrance and began to work him open, his tongue pressing in and out as Harry’s moans got louder. Finally, his jaw aching something fierce, Draco sat back and brought one of his long, pale fingers to finish the job. _lubrico_. His head resting against Harry’s thigh, Draco watched with fascination as his slippery finger disappeared into his body.

“Blimey you’re sexy like this!” He whispered, peppering Harry’s inner thigh with kisses as he gently twisted his finger inside him. Harry’s debauched moans were becoming almost too much for Draco to handle and he finally let his other hand rest on his own achingly hard prick. _I’m not sure I’ll last long enough to fuck him_ he thought desperately.

“More, Draco! I need more” Harry gasped, his eyes shut tight as Draco added a second finger. “More! You’re not going to break me! Come on!”

He hesitated, the last thing Draco wanted to do was hurt him, but the need in Harry’s voice finally won out and Draco slipped a third finger into his body. He had to turn away, resting his forehead against Harry’s thigh, the sight of half his hand pushing in and out of his tight hole was too much for Draco to handle. He could hear Harry’s heartbeat flying and just beneath his skin he could smell the blood pumping quickly. It was mouthwatering and he licked Harry’s thigh along the femoral artery before he’d stopped to think about what he was doing.

“Do it.” Harry choked out. Draco’s head snapped up to see that Harry was tossing himself off, watching Draco eagerly. “Do it, Draco. Bite me.”

Draco stopped everything and Harry whimpered as his fingers stilled. “It’s not a good idea, Potter.” He whispered. He could feel his gums aching as his fangs threatened to come out. “I fed only yesterday. I don’t need it.”

“Merlin, Malfoy, who cares? You want it, and _I need it!_ ” Harry’s voice was desperate as he pushed himself back, trying to force Malfoy’s fingers to begin moving once more.

He knew it wasn’t smart, and he knew it was dangerous, but at that moment, Draco didn’t care. His mouth stung with the decent of his fangs and he flashed a smile at Harry who drew in a sharp intake of breath at the sight of them.

“Yes, Draco! Do it!” He moaned, and it was all over. Draco sunk his fangs into Potter’s femoral artery and moaned as he let his hot blood pool on his tongue. At the same time Harry cried out, his hand stilling as he came all over his own chest. He continued to writhe and gasp as Draco drank deeply, only letting the occasional drop slip from his mouth onto the duvet. He drank for several minutes before pulling away. Gasping as he wiped his mouth, smearing Harry’s blood across his chin.

Potter was on him in a heartbeat, pushing him down onto the bed and engulfing his aching prick with his mouth. Draco was surprised, but his gasp turned into a wanton moan as Harry took him in all the way to his base, swallowing around him and it was all over. Draco came, shouting Harry’s name as The Chosen One swallowed every drop.

Harry, too, sat up and wiped his mouth. Grinning at Malfoy stupidly.  _We must be quite a sight. Come smeared across his mouth and blood across mine..._

“You know, Potter,” Draco sneered, “Your obsession with the bite makes you one of the easiest blokes to get off I’ve ever met.”

Harry punched him in the shoulder and shot back, “You should take a look in the mirror, Malfoy. You look positively awful.” He added a knowing wink as Draco made to answer him and they both dissolved into laughter.

“Why don’t you stay the night,” Draco offered, much to his own surprise. “You’ve nowhere to be tonight, I trust?”

Harry looked momentarily concerned and Draco wondered what he was thinking, “Yeah, why not. I’m exhausted. Could use a shower, too” he added, looking at the several trails of blood down his and the drying come all over his chest.

Draco smirked, “I think we could arrange that.”


	5. True Colours

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just as Draco and Harry's relationship looks to be deepening, predictably, complications arise.

Draco awoke to the sound of the ancient clock on the mantle in the library. It was almost invariably what woke him each morning, and today was not unusual. _Except that every single thing about today is already unusual,_ he thought as he rolled over to look at the sleeping wizard beside him. Harry’s dark hair was messier than usual, _I did warn him that going to bed with it still wet would make it unmanageable._ His jaw had gone slack and he’d drooled slightly onto his own arm that shoved under his face like an additional pillow.  _Sexy, Potter._ Draco thought.

He contemplated getting out of bed, surely there were things he could be doing now that he was awake, but the idea of leaving Harry was almost painful. _Careful, Draco. You’re falling much harder than you meant to._ He had known for years how he felt about Harry, but he had always prided himself at being able to keep his emotions in check. He may have fancied Harry, but he also hated him. He didn’t see the two as mutually exclusive. In fact, it was because he also hated The Boy Who Lived that he could so efficiently mask his desire. _However fit he may have been, he still humiliated my family on multiple occasions, he still held me in the lowest possible regard, and he still made it his life’s work to ensure I never felt that Hogwarts, a place I’d been looking forward to since my birth, was my home._ He knew, objectively, that Harry probably hadn’t been conscious of the things of which Draco’s brain had found him guilty. In fact, he knew that a good many of his problems with Harry in his school days were actually down to his own parents and their inability to let go of the past and their pride. Now, however, there was nothing standing in the way of Draco’s feelings. He’d long-since stopped hating Harry Potter. _For better or for worse, he won._ He defeated The Dark Lord, he even testified on behalf of Draco’s own mother in front of the Wizengamot. While there were few things Draco would like more than to have everything exactly as it was in the old days, he was glad, at least, to have set aside his feelings of animosity toward Harry. _Apparently he feels the same way,_ he smirked as he brushed a stray lock of hair from Harry’s face. _But you mustn’t let this get out of control._ His face fell as he watched Harry mumble something unintelligible. _He couldn’t go a whole night without being fed from… that’s a problem._ Draco sighed and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and searching for his slippers. _Damn!_ He realized he’d forgotten to get Harry any blood-replenishing potion. _You’ve got to be more careful, Draco,_ he chided himself. _You know how reckless he’s always been. He’ll let you drink him dry because it feels good without a second thought._ Draco shivered at the thought, though whether it was fear or excitement he genuinely couldn’t discern.

Slippers on, he reached for his dressing gown, only to remember that he’d been a wee bit distracted last night, and had forgotten to hang it up beside his bed. Sighing, he climbed out of bed and shuffled his way to the ensuite where he’d left it. He was careful to walk quietly so as not to wake Harry, _it’s strange. I know everything about how the Slytherin boys in my year slept, but I haven’t any idea whether Harry Potter’s a light sleeper or not._ He remembered that Harry slept long past him the morning previous, but decided not to take any chances as he closed the bedroom door quietly.

He made his way downstairs and once again summoned the Malfoy family elves. He wiped his mouth quickly as they appeared, _the last thing I need is to still have blood on my lips when they see me. They already look as though they might faint just being in my presence._

“Good morning Marigold,” he said, nodding to the braver elf. He tried to catch Daisy’s eye, but she had them firmly fixed on the ground beneath her, “and how are you today, Daisy?”

Daisy squeaked and went pale. Marigold looked for a moment as if she might chastise Daisy for not answering, so Draco continued quickly, “I’m afraid my guest from last night is back again. If you don’t mind preparing him another breakfast?”

Marigold puffed out her chest, “We is happy to cook for Master Draco’s human friend! We is glad to be of service to the noble Malfoy House!”

Draco sighed, but nodded and they scurried off to prepare breakfast again. _If that dunderhead gives me a hard time again for keeping the elves I may have to reconsider having him over._

Draco knew the day would pass quickly, no doubt Harry would be off for the Ministry as soon as he awoke and he’d be left on his own once again. _It does get terribly dull, spending all my time alone in the Manor._ He made his way into the study and sat down at an ancient writing desk. He’d been toying with the idea of setting down his life story, but he was torn between the fear that it would be too vain and the gnawing suspicion that it might help him feel as though he’d made some sort of contribution to the wizarding world. _Then, of course, there’s the fear that someone might actually read it._ He knew that if he decided to do this, he’d have to be completely candid. He’d have to describe the most intimate moments of his life, moments that he’d never shared with anyone. Moments he’d tried to forget.

He sat at the desk in silence for several minutes before standing and leaving the room once more. _Not today._

He puttered about the manor for a bit, before finally deciding there was nothing for it and retiring to the library read, as usual. This time he’d immersed himself in Gondita Gofyle’s _Heroic Healers: Tales of Triumph at St. Mungo’s._ He’d read it before, but the stories of dramatic diagnoses and last-minute successes were well-documented, and he’d found he loved Ms. Gofyle’s uniquely antiseptic writing style. She included the most miniscule of details, and yet never wandered into the realm of prattling on about unrelated matters. She’d describe the patients, with names omitted, of course, as well as the history of their particular ailment.

Draco’s interest in becoming a healer had begun in his fourth year. He’s watched the healers bustle about Hogwarts during the Triwizard tournament and he remembered wondering why they were necessary. Dumbledore or McGonagall could handle any harm that could befall the champions, surely? It was a thought that had never occurred to him previously, but then, lying in the Hospital Wing in his sixth year, he remembered praying Madame Pomfrey would be able to mitigate the scarring. _“Sectumsempra_. He’d laid there with his eyes closed. Pansy’d visited him, but as far as he remembered he still hadn’t said a word. He still remembered the terror as Severus had lain him out on the bed, as Madam Pomfrey hurried over and attempted to remove his shirt, it was the only time he’d made any move. _She’ll see it!_ He’d thought desperately, ripping his shirt open in the middle and forbidding her waste any time with the rest of it. _She had to have known,_ his shirt was soaked through with water and blood, he was sure it was completely transparent. He unconsciously ran his hand across his chest. The scar was faint. He still had dreams sometimes that would end with Harry’s voice and that spell. He remembered lying in the bathroom, soaked and bleeding, wishing he would die. Wishing it would all end.

Everything between them to that point had been fast, desperate and hungry. _What happens when we’re lying in bed and he looks at me? Really looks._ Draco stroked his left arm unconsciously, _the scar he gave me and…_ His hand stilled and he looked down at his left sleeve. He never looked at it. It was probably the one upside of not having a reflection. He’d learned, as a force of habit, never to look at his left arm when it was bare. It came naturally to him now, and he’d often go weeks without seeing it. Now, though, he took a deep breath and intentionally pushed up the sleeve of his dressing gown. He had heard whispers of Dark Wizards and Witches who offered Dark Mark Removal. He knew their clientele were hoping to continue their illicit activities without receiving so much negative attention, but he couldn’t be certain it would work on him. As an immortal, Draco knew that his body wouldn’t change. He had no idea if that logic extended as far as magical tattoos, but he certainly didn’t want to find out at the hands of a Dark Wizard who still supported The Dark Lord’s ideology. He stared at it with hatred in his eyes, but at the same time he couldn’t tear them away. He remembered his mother bandaging it and whispering to him, “It’s not you, Draco. It's just something that was done to you.” He hadn’t believed her then and he certainly didn’t believe the words now. _I wanted this. I wanted to prove myself._ He felt tears welling up in his eyes, and he choked them down. He’d been careful to keep it out of Harry’s sight, and thus far it seemed to have worked, but if they carried on he’d see it eventually and that would be it. _He’ll be reminded of who I am and I’ll never see him again._

Draco pulled his sleeve back down with a start, he’d heard a small cough upstairs. _Finally, Potter._ He smiled and rose to his feet, setting aside Gofyle’s book as he hurried upstairs.

“Good morning, Potter.” He sneered, “You know, I’m not entirely convinced it’s I and not you who’s become a _'creature of the night'_ …”

Harry had kicked the duvet off himself at some point since Draco left and he now rolled over, completely exposed and completely unashamed. “You really think you’re so clever, don’t you?” He had a soft smile on his face, and Draco couldn’t help but return it. “I’ll have you know, unlike a ' _creature of the night'_  , I wake up to the smell of sausages. Regardless of the hour.”

“So many jokes to be made there, so I’ll leave it alone. Why don’t you get dressed? I’ll have a plate brought up for you.” Draco’s smile broadened, but Harry didn’t hesitate, hopping out of bed with more energy than Draco could usually muster all day.

“You’re alright. I should be getting up anyway. Still, nice to have a lie in every now and then, you know?” He stretched and it was all Draco could do not to stare. “Any chance you’ve got a spare set of robes I could wear today? I don’t much fancy wearing my ministry robes if I can help it.”

“You don’t have to go in today?” Draco asked.

“Not today. I thought I’d stay here today, if that’s alright with you?” Harry’s voice was uncertain and Draco had to quash the sudden urge to hug him.

“’course you can. Let’s get you some clothes, though. I don’t know how much more of _this_ ,” he gestured vaguely at Harry’s body, “I can take.” Harry laughed, and followed him to Draco’s wardrobe. “Would you like a dressing gown? A robe? I’ve got some trousers that would probably fit you, and you can choose any of my shirts.”

Harry stood in front of the wardrobe for a minute, “You know this is like looking through a posh muggle catalogue. Don’t you have any t-shirts?”

Draco wrinkled his nose, “why would I?”

Harry didn’t try to hide his eye roll, “because they’re comfortable, you arse.”

Draco hesitated, but finally he reached into the back of one of the drawers and pulled out a faded T-shirt. As he expected, Harry burst out laughing, “Blur?” he asked, incredulous. “Of all the muggle bands, you bought a Blur T-shirt?”

Draco scoffed, “I like their sound.” And quickly chose a dark green shirt and pair of black trousers for himself. As he laid them out on the bed Harry continued rummaging through his options. After a minute or so, he found an old pair of jeans that Draco had worn for a few months during his fourth year. He was tempted to warn Harry that he wouldn’t fit into them, but with a quick enlarging charm Harry took care of that before Draco had a chance to say a word. “Why don’t you go downstairs and eat. I’ll join you in a moment.” Draco offered after Harry dressed.

“Shy, Draco?” Harry snickered, “I wouldn’t have thought so after last night.”

Draco smiled mockingly, “Yes, Potter. Because there’s no other reason I would want to delay sitting there and watch you stuff your face.” He began unbuttoning the shirt on the bed, unconcernedly, “besides, I didn’t get a chance to brush my teeth or wash my face this morning as I was trying not to wake the great lump in my bed.”

“Alright, alright.” Harry sighed, though Draco wasn’t entirely convinced that he’d bought it. “I’ll see you downstairs.”

Draco listened to his footsteps pattering down the stairs and sighed, _You’ve gotten yourself all worked up about the Mark. He knows you have one, he probably won’t even care._ But it was too late, Draco had gotten it in his head that Harry mustn’t see it, and now he couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that it was the only thing holding this arrangement together. He dressed quickly, washed his face and brushed his teeth. As usual, he closed his eyes and smoothed his hair down with his hands before picking up a comb and going through it carefully, feeling along as he went. He’d let it grow out a bit since his school days, even considering letting it grow like his father’s had, but each time it reached his shoulders he cut it off once more. _He’s still controlling your life. Still making your decisions for you._ Draco pushed the thought aside and hurried down the stairs to join Harry in the Dining Room. He glanced at the clock as he passed the library, _nearly half eleven_ , he wondered what they would do with the rest of the day. He’d already determined not to drink from him again today. _Not for another week, at least,_ he thought. _His body will replenish the plasma quickly, but even with the potion, Damn!_ He made a mental note to get some for Harry to drink after breakfast, _bi-weekly is really the absolute limit for his body to maintain a healthy level or red blood cells._

“How’s breakfast?” Draco asked, strolling into the dining room.

Harry looked up with a mouthful of egg, “Delicious!” he said, spraying bits of egg across the table.

“Merlin’s beard, Potter! Are you actually a child?” Draco pulled his wand from his pocket and cleaned the table with a flick.

“Sorry, Draco.” Harry said after he’d finished swallowing. “Hey, Draco? Why do you still call me Potter? I told you you could call me Harry…” Draco glanced up, but Harry didn’t look offended, only curious.

“Habit, I suppose.” Draco said, joining Harry at the table, “I do think of you differently, though.” He assured him, “I’ve put our childhood feud far behind me.”

“I should think so,” Harry laughed, “You had your tongue so far up my arse last night I nearly thought I’d died.”

Draco wondered if he was blushing. _I’ve fed two nights in a row, I very well could be!_ and turned his head just in case. “As I recall, you asked me if I needed any instructions. I believe I adequately demonstrated that I do not.”

Harry smiled, “You do _not_!”

“So, _Harry._ What do you want to do today, since you’ve slept away half of it already?” Draco picked up a fork and twirled it between his fingers.

“What do you usually do?” Harry asked, and again, Draco was surprised to notice that his voice conveyed only genuine curiosity.

“I spend most of my days reading. Occasionally I’ll do a bit of shopping, but that’s hardly necessary most of the time. In the evenings I’ll go out to Allsopp’s, or occasionally even to a muggle pub… You see,” he added at the crestfallen look on Harry’s face, “my life is terribly dull most of the time.”

“Why don’t we do something different today?” Harry offered, “We could go see a film? Or we could go out for lunch?”

“You’ve literally _just_ finished breakfast!” Draco said, incredulous.

“Doesn’t have to be right now… but sometime today, let’s do something.” Harry hadn’t been privy to Draco’s life for a full minute and he was already tearing his hair out. _What a stereotype. The restless Gryffindor who can’t stand the dull life of the meticulous Slytherin._

“Harry… You don’t need to stay here if you’d rather do something else. I promise I won’t feel abandoned if you go off and play Quidditch or whatever it is you do on your days off.” Draco knew his voice had taken on some of it’s old drawl, but he didn't have time to think about it, as the sudden change in Potter’s face was so surprising, he lost his train of thought instantly.

“That’s it! Draco! It’s a brilliant idea! Let’s play Quidditch!” Harry leapt to his feet, and sprinted out of the room before Draco had time to process what had happened.

Draco had finally willed himself to move, and was halfway to the dining room door when Harry reappeared, “You can, I mean…” He suddenly looked very sheepish, “You can go outside, right?”

Draco laughed before he could stop himself. “We studied vampires at least twice in school! Do you really not remember?”

“You’ve spent the last 5 years reading _every_ book on the subject, not to mention actually _being_ one, and you still had to talk to Hermione about it.” Harry said, defensively.

“Fair enough, Potter. Yes. I can go outside. I visited the Ministry during opening hours just the other day.”

Harry smiled, “then let’s play Quidditch!”

 

***

 

All things considered it was a surprisingly good day. Harry had thoroughly exhausted himself in the first half-hour and Draco remembered once more that he’d forgotten the potion, _I clearly should’ve made myself a note._ so they spent the next few hours taking turns catching the snitch. It was Draco’s first time playing since he’d been turned and, to his delight, he found he could now hear the snitch wherever it went. He kept this little revelation to himself for most of the afternoon, flying around lazily, perfectly aware of where the snitch was. After what he considered a reasonable, but still impressive length of time he’d suddenly take off and have the snitch within moments. It wasn’t until his fourth or fifth impressive catch that Harry realized he’d been cheating.

“You bastard!” He’d shouted, setting off an ill-advised chase thorough a London borough that was, thankfully, sitting down to dinner and not spending much time looking skyward.

When they finally returned to the manor, muddy and in Harry’s case, out of breath, Draco was in much better spirits. They were still laughing about a man they’d seen on the pavement on their way back. Harry had insisted that they walk most of the way and this man had been wearing a truly dreadful combination of patterns and fabrics, to the point that Draco actually had to look away. Something he doubted Harry would ever let him live down.

“I just don’t understand how you can so perfectly embody every aspect of Slytherin House singlehandedly.” Harry said, shrugging off his muggle jacket in the foyer. They’d apparated to Harry’s flat before going out so he could get his broom and kit, but then, after realizing that Draco would not play at the Ministry pitch where he might be spotted, he’d settled for muggle clothes instead.

“This is coming from the Gryffindor who just tossed his muddy jacket from a day of Quidditch onto a rug that’s been in the Malfoy family for generations.” He quipped, vanishing the jacket and mud with a wave of his wand.

“My jacket!” Harry cried with such despair that Draco laughed once more, sending them both back into their lighthearted mood.

“So, Potter,” Draco said slyly, “we’ve spent the day as you see fit, now it’s my turn.” A tinge of red stained Harry’s cheeks and Draco laughed again, “Not like that. See, unlike you, I am actually capable of thinking of things besides blood and sex.”

“Pretty rich coming from the vampire who just fed on me twice in two days.” Harry said with a grin.

“Pretty careless banter coming from a human whom I’ve overpowered twice in two days.” Draco said, stepping forward ominously. “Besides,” he added, taking another step so that his lips could brush against Harry’s ear, “as I recall, you _begged_ me to bite you.” Harry inhaled sharply and Draco chuckled. “Actually, I thought I might introduce you to _my_ world.”

It was almost worth the suggestion just to see the look of trepidation on Harry’s face. “Oh, come now, Potter, you’re a world-class Auror. You don’t think you could handle a few unsavoury types?”

Harry squared up, “what did you have in mind?”

Draco smiled, “Allsopp’s. It’s about that time of the week that I’d usually put in an appearance.” He watched Harry’s brows knit together and continued, unperturbed. “Of course, I don’t expect I’ll be pulling tonight, but I certainly would hate to lose my reputation as a regular.”

“You don’t really expect me to go to Allsopp’s Tavern with you?” Harry said, a note of pleading in his voice. “We hold raids there on a near-weekly basis. I doubt they’d even let me through the door!”

“They will if you’re with me.” Draco said with an air of finality. Harry hung his head, but Draco stepped around him, “Now, should you want to hop in the shower before we leave, I think you would have time. Perhaps once you’ve cleaned it properly I’d consider grabbing a fistful of that ridiculous hair...”

Harry’s head snapped up and he smiled at Draco.  _No feeding,_ Draco reminded himself, _but I could certainly stand to see him on his knees right now._

They left the house a bit later than he’d meant to that night, as Harry had decided to tease Draco by taking an absurdly long shower. Draco had almost given in and just gotten himself off when the water finally stopped and a dripping wet Harry Potter stepped out into the bedroom.

“On the bed?” Harry had whispered.

“Oh, I think not.” Draco had said with a smirk. Caressing Harry’s face with his dry palm before grabbing a fistful of his hair and pushing him down. “I think right here should suffice.”

It certainly hadn’t taken long, Harry continued to impress Malfoy with his dexterous tongue and obviously practiced technique.

When Draco came, Harry swallowed quickly and pulled Draco down to his knees as well to kiss him deeply. _He’s a lot cheekier since school!_ Draco thought as he tasted himself on Harry’s tongue. _Then again, I suppose he was dealing with more than most during our school years…_ Draco smiled as they pulled apart and stood again, “It’s getting late. If we’re going to Allsopp’s, we’d best get going.”

Harry sat back on his heels, still completely naked, in stark contrast to Draco who was tucking himself away as he added a fine waistcoat to his already impeccable outfit. “Why don’t we stay in, Draco?” He said, in what Draco was sure was meant to be a reasonable tone.

“Don’t even try, Potter. We’re going to Allsopp’s. Unless,” honestly Draco couldn’t believe he hadn’t thought of this sooner, “unless you have another reason for not wanting to go.” Draco’s sharp face twisted into a sly smile and he leaned down so that he was right in front of Harry, “Scared, Potter?”

The thing about Harry Potter is, he saw through what Malfoy was trying to do at once. The thing about Harry Potter is, he still fell for it.

“Fine. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He huffed, summoning a set of plain black jeans and a matching black t-shirt, “They won’t be pleased to see me.”

 

***

 

They arrived in Knockturn Alley around half nine. Draco spent half a minute convincing Harry to put his wand away, as he’d drawn it the instant they’d apparated. “I don’t want to see your wand again tonight!” Draco had chastised him, “you’re a Ministry official, surely you can walk down Knockturn Alley without fearing for your life.”

“It’s precisely _because_ I’m a Ministry official, not to mention all of my other titles, that I fear for my life in Knockturn Alley.” Harry had shot back, but he’d reluctantly put his wand away and followed Draco down the lamp-lit cobblestone path.

They reached Allsopp’s at the end of the alley, several doorways past Borgin & Burke’s, and a small, withered man with a distinctly unpleasant odour bowed them inside.

“See?” Draco said, nudging Harry gently forward, “No problem at all.”

No sooner had he said it than the whole tavern went quiet. Apparently, Harry was more recognizable than Draco had been expecting. For several seconds they both stood, frozen in the doorway while the two dozen or so people inside scrutinized them in silence. He could feel their hostility and could smell the adrenaline surge from several shadowy figures standing near the bar. Draco’s mind was racing, but he knew there was one thing he could do that would guarantee they would be left alone. With his fingers trembling he rolled up his right sleeve, nudging Harry forward as he did the same to his left. The moment the Mark was revealed the murmur of the crowd resumed and the faces that had been staring at them quickly returned to their tankards.

Draco saw Harry watching him out of the corner of his eye, but didn’t acknowledge him. Rather, he led them to a table in the back, occupied by two large men with olive complexions who scurried away like rodents when they saw him coming and gestured for the barkeep to bring them both a drink. He searched for something else to take his attention, and found himself staring at his lack of reflection in the horrendously dirty window next to the table. Finally, he gave in and looked at Harry, whose face was a combination of shock and concern. “What is it?” Draco asked, exasperated.

Harry looked slightly hurt and Draco felt his heart sink. “I just wanted to see if you were alright.” Harry mumbled. He glanced down at the Mark and back up at Draco, “I saw how hard you were trying to hide it last night in bed. I know you’re ashamed of it. I just…” He faltered, Draco was feeling worse by the second, “I know what it meant to you to show it off like that. Thank you.”

Draco was shocked. _He saw me hiding it._ He couldn’t help but take a deep, steadying breath. _He noticed and he didn’t say anything._ He was surprisingly touched by Harry’s conscientiousness. “It’s nothing.” He mumbled, feeling markedly more self-conscious.

Harry smiled at him and, much to Draco’s surprise, took his hand. “I don’t know what happened to you, and I’m sorry for the pain you’ve been through since the War… but I like the new Draco.”

Draco couldn’t help but feel that all of this sentiment was rather out of place in Allsopp’s Tavern. “Where are our bloody drinks?” Draco muttered, trying as desperately as he could to change the subject.

“I’ll go get something.” Harry said, standing quickly, “Do you want anything? Or do you just observe, these days?”

“I don’t. I usually order something just so I don’t raise quite as much suspicion, but get whatever you want. Put it on my bill.” Draco wasn’t entirely sure it was a good idea to let Harry go by himself, _he’s an Auror. He can take care of himself, even here._

Harry nodded and made his way toward the bar on the far side of the dark room. Draco’s eyes followed him, unblinking, like a hawk. The bartender briefly looked as though he was considering ignoring Harry, but a sidelong glance toward the table quashed that idea as he saw Draco’s cold stare. _What a strange person Harry is._ Draco thought. _He was met with flat out hostility when he walked in, yet here he is, chatting with the bartender, even-_ Draco’s nostrils flared as he noticed who it was that had just struck up a conversation with Harry. _Fucking Illyria Catterson._ Draco had had more than one unpleasant encounter with Illyria. She was entirely without scruples and practically a squib, at that. She spent most of her time trying to impress far more impressive wizards. After Draco’s trial she had spent a number of weeks trying to get him to take her to bed. He couldn’t have made it any clearer that he wasn’t interested, but she was notorious for never taking “no” for an answer. _Potter doesn’t know what he’s getting into, talking to her._ Draco was practically shaking with fury. _Let's see if I can give her a “no” she won’t soon forget._ Draco pushed his chair back roughly and strode to the bar with all of the haughtiness years of his father’s training had afforded him.

“I really do think it’s wonderful how you were able to defeat him, you know.” Illyria’s grating voice could be heard before Draco had even made it across the room. “And so young, too!”

“Funny, Illyria.” Draco's voice startled her as he stepped into view, his arm sliding surreptitiously around Harry’s waist. “I seem to recall you sidling up to me in this very tavern and declaring your undying admiration for my time as a Death Eater.” Harry shot him a look, but made no move to stop him so Draco pulled him closer, “I believe your exact words were, ‘If I can ever be _of service_ to such a loyal servant of The Dark Lord...’” Draco mimicked her voice with more accuracy than he should’ve been able to manage. He felt Harry shake with silent laughter beside him and squeezed his ribs.

Illyria shot him a truly scathing look, but she was tremendously outmatched when it came to practiced pettiness. Draco ignored her entirely and turned to Harry, “I trust you’ll return when our drinks are ready?”

Unfortunately, Illyria had never had much sense, “maybe Harry will decide I’m better company.” She quipped, linking her arm through Harry’s.

The change was instantaneous. Draco’s fangs descended so quickly he didn’t even notice the pain. He saw red and in a second he had her held facedown by her neck against the bar. The smell of blood filled the air as shards of what used to be a pint glass dug into Illyria’s cheek. The whole tavern was still and silent. Draco could feel Harry trying to pull him back, but he was no match for Draco’s strength. “I trust,” Draco whispered, leaning down and licking a drop of blood off the counter right in front of her trembling face, “you’ll think twice before coming back here. We’re not a very friendly lot.”

“Draco!” Harry hissed at him, his voice firm and authoritative. _He’s using his bloody Auror voice._ Draco pursed his lips and leaned back slowly. To his shock and dismay, Harry’s wand was drawn and trained on Draco. “Please step back.” Harry said softly.

Draco initially couldn’t tell whether he was heartbroken or furious. _No... Furious._ He let go of Illyria and stormed back to their table without a second glance at Harry.

When Potter finally joined him (Draco had heard him inquiring about whether or not there would be any sort of report to the Ministry) Draco was looking pointedly out the dusty window. “Draco, please.” Harry muttered, _Merlin’s beard… he’s trying to apologize._ “Draco. Can we go back to yours?” Harry’s voice was insistent, but still Draco ignored him. “Draco, I can’t obliviate everyone in this pub and you’ve just exposed yourself in more ways than I think you’ve realized.” At that, Draco finally turned.

“You think you’re looking out for me, Potter?” Draco hissed. “You just drew your wand on me like I was some kind of savage beast.”

“You were _acting_ like a savage beast!” Harry spat back. “Please, I want to discuss this, but not here. It’s not safe.”

“Not safe for me or for you?” Draco scoffed.

“Not safe for _you_ , you twat!” Harry growled, grabbing Draco suddenly by the arm and dragging him to his feet. “You’re the one they’re after. If they know you’re a vampire they’ll force you to turn others. Greyback is relentless and he already hates your family!”

“You don’t have to tell _me_ that, Potter.” Draco yanked his arm out of Harry’s grasp, but nodded and, punctuating his silence with a rude gesture, waited to follow The Chosen One out the door.

The air was crisp out on the street, and Draco realised he didn’t see any reason to walk all the way down to the designated apparition point. He vanished in a snap, no doubt in his mind that Harry would follow right behind.

 

***

 

 

“You’re a bloody idiot, Draco Malfoy!” Harry hadn’t even fully finished apparating before his voice echoed through the Manor.

“Yes, I am!” Draco shouted back, “For trusting you! I was trying to protect your-“

“My what? My honour?” Harry laughed, “Grow up, Draco! Look who you’re talking to! You think I couldn’t have protected myself? You think that sad excuse for a woman could’ve so much as touched me?”

“She _did_ touch you!” Draco’s voice was ice and the words hung in the air for a moment before a look of comprehension spread across Harry’s face.

“You mean all of that was because she touched me? You put us both, but especially yourself, at risk because she touched me?” He laughed mirthlessly. “What? Can’t you _share_ , Draco?”

“Fuck off!” Draco spat.

“No, you know... I don’t think I will. Because you seem to think you own me.” Harry’s voice had taken on a mocking tone that Draco felt in his bones.

“Fine, Potter.” Draco was fuming. His voice had gone completely cold and he turned away from Harry, with more difficulty than he cared to admit, “You do whatever you’d like. I’m going to bed.”

“That’s right, Malfoy!” Harry shouted after him as Draco climbed the stairs, “You can’t give me orders. No one gives me orders!”

Draco couldn’t help himself. He should’ve kept walking, but instead he turned around and smiled. “No one gives you orders?” He practically sang it, “That’s a laugh, Potter. All your life you’ve taken orders. You’ve never had a single original thought. Your muggle parents, then Dumbledore, then the Order, then The Dark Lord, then Ginny, now the Ministry.”

Harry looked wounded, but his eyes narrowed and he pointed his wand at Draco’s still-exposed forearm, “Well I’m not the one with _that_.”

Draco drew his wand, “Cruci-”

But he never got to finish the spell. In a split second the Manor was plunged into complete darkness and Draco felt his entire body go limp. _What’s he done?_ He thought wildly as he tried to move. He felt a searing pain run throughout his body, but his throat wouldn't work to scream.  _This isn’t Potter._ He struggled, but the pain began to overwhelm him. Within minutes he felt himself slipping out of consciousness.

_Harry!_


	6. The Devouring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How strong can Draco be when Harry's life is on the line?

Draco’s ears were ringing. Nothing in his body felt right. He ached all over and his arms, legs and neck were burning as though someone were branding him. Suddenly the scene in the Manor came flying back to him and his eyes snapped open. The room he was in was shabby, an old muggle hotel by the looks of it. He was lying on one of the moth-eaten beds, his arms, legs, and neck all wrapped tightly in enchanted silver chains. He struggled against them but gave up almost immediately. _They’re not fools, whoever did this. They knew to use silver, so they must know what I am._ He wondered if his wand was still somewhere nearby, as he doubted even a skilled Occlumens like himself could clear his head with the amount of pain he was in.

 _Harry!_  Draco strained against his chains once more to see if he could see him anywhere, but before he’d had a chance to look the smell of fresh blood washed over him. _Merlin,_ he took a steadying breath, _it’s a good thing I fed recently!_ Once the initial bloodlust had subsided he realized with a start that he recognized the scent. _It's him!_   _He’s nearby…and he’s hurt!_

Draco fought with the chains for several more minutes, finally managing to turn his head so he could see the rest of the hotel room. Lying in a crumpled heap on the floor by the window, was Harry's body. Draco’s stomach lurched as he tried to listen for a heartbeat over the ringing in his ears.

 _He’s alive._  Relieved, he slumped back, unaware that he’d been straining against the chains again. _But not for long._ He squinted in the flickering light and saw a pool of blood collecting beneath Harry’s abdomen. He’d received a nasty gash to his side during the struggle and whoever had done this to the two of them clearly hadn’t bothered to do anything about it. _I never gave him the potion,_ Draco realized with an icy fear. _He’s already lost two feedings’ worth of blood and now he’s lying there, loosing more._ The reality struck Draco like a charging hippogriff. _He’s going to bleed out._

Inside his chest, Harry’s heart was beginning to slow. Draco could hear the heartbeats begin to falter and he looked around wildly once more.

“Help! Someone, help us!” He shouted, unable to avoid imagining his father’s face if he had ever heard Draco sound so helpless. “Please! He needs a healer!” He shouted once more.

He listened carefully, but no footsteps could be heard. In fact, he didn’t hear any signs of life anywhere beyond the room. Somewhere in the distance he could hear the sea and the soft dinging of a buoy. _Harry, please hold on!_

 _Alright, what are my options?_ Draco’s head was spinning with the pain and the fear, but he knew he had to come up with something, _I can’t get to him. I could keep trying, but if the silver makes it into my bloodstream I'll be too weak to save myself, let alone him._ He looked down at his ankles and saw that the silver had already begun to burn through his skin. _He’s unconscious… If I could wake him up he might be able to find a way to stop the bleeding…_ Draco knew that was also risky. Waking Harry would raise his heart rate, risking more blood loss than he could sustain. _If no one outside is coming to help us, it’s our only choice…_ He wondered if there was any bit of wandless magic he could use, but his thoughts were jumbled and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to control it. _I should’ve practiced more…_ He glanced once more at the chains, wondering if the silver had already began to pollute his bloodstream and weaken him. Draco looked around wildly, hoping he might be able to send some small object flying at Harry. _The smallest thing in here is a telephone, and it’s tethered to the wall…_ _I’m going to have to get inside his mind._ Draco knew he’d need every ounce of concentration to pull this off. Shaking his head roughly to clear his thoughts. It wouldn’t matter how skilled of a Legilimens he was if he couldn’t get past this ringing in his ears.

 _Focus, Draco. Harry’s life depends on it._ He closed his eyes, taking a deep, but unnecessary, breath. When Draco’s eyes opened, his mind was clear and his magic was buzzing.

 

  _Legilimens!_

 

Draco found himself suddenly in a tiny room, _though it wasn’t really a room by any stretch of the imagination_. Sitting on the bed a small boy with broken glasses was absentmindedly watching a spider climb across his hand. The memory shifted and the same small boy, perhaps two or three years older was standing in a cool, dark building, staring intently at a large boa constrictor behind the glass. They were looking at one another with an air of understanding. Draco could just make out a soft hissing sound coming from the boy's mouth and he watched in awe as the snake used it's tale to point at a sign next to its enclosure. Then Harry was sitting in a compartment on the Hogwarts express with his friends and a sleeping Professor Lupin, the compartment door had just slid closed and Ron was muttering, "I mean it. If he makes one more crack about my family, I’m going to get hold of his head and —” He pantomimed something that left little to the imagination and, while Harry smiled, Hermione looked mortified, “Ron! Be careful!”

 _Harry!_ Draco had only once or twice ever tried to communicate with someone directly through Legilimency and he had no idea if it would be enough to wake the unconscious wizard. _Harry, please!_ He pushed aside the memories and tried to find Harry’s conscious mind. _Harry, you have to wake up. You’re in danger!_

Draco was distracted, however, by a vision that the sound of his voice seemed to have conjured. A fourteen or fifteen-year-old Draco had Harry pushed against a door in what must’ve been the Gryffindor dormitory. Harry held his hand over his mouth as Draco, his school robes flung on the floor behind him, kissed Harry’s neck passionately. “You like that, Potter?” Draco heard his own drawling voice. “What happens when one of your little friends wants to come to bed?”  
“I’ll put the invisibility cloak over you.” Harry gasped, his eyes shut tight as Draco smirked.

“Well, what about this?” Draco palmed Harry’s erection through his trousers, “Surely they’ll notice this?” He watched himself sink to his knees as he fumbled with Harry's zip.

Draco blinked quickly, trying to refocus his efforts. _That was a dream… from back in school… he used to dream about me?_ He shook himself and cleared his mind once more, _Harry! You have to wake up! You have to wake up. You need to save yourself._ The sound of footsteps outside broke Draco’s concentration once more. _Harry, they’re coming! You have to wake up! You’re Harry bloody Potter! You need to wake up NOW!_

  
The door swung open and the light from outside was so bright that Draco gasped and squeezed his eyes shut.

“I told you he’d be awake!” Two men with dark beards strolled casually into the room, shutting the door behind them. The smaller one continued, “he’s probably smelling this one here.” He punctuated the statement with a swift kick to Harry’s thigh.

“You’ve made a very grave mistake, gentlemen.” Draco said, his voice disconcertingly smooth. “Do you know who I am?”

“Draco Malfoy. Death Eater. Vampire.” The taller one shrugged, “I think we’ve got the idea.” He flashed a smile at Draco who saw, to his horror, a pair of glistening fangs.

“Then you’ll be wanting to get this silver off me, if you know what’s good for you.” Draco didn’t let his voice show any of his despair. “The Malfoys don’t take well to being prisoners, you see. It tends to end quite badly for our captors.”

The smaller man laughed, “hear that, Corpus? It’s gonna end badly for us!” He bared his teeth as well, unnecessarily, as Draco had already assumed that they were _both_ vampires.

“Can’t say we agree with you there, _Mister Malfoy._ ” The taller one, Corpus, said. “We’ve been given orders to restrain you until our Master arrives. He’ll be able to persuade you.”

“You’re speaking of Fenrir Greyback?” The two men looked caught off guard by Draco’s casual name-dropping. Draco smiled, “He’s a friend of the family. I hate to think how he’ll feel about seeing me like this…” Draco watched their faces fall and decided it was time for a gamble, “I trust you received the orders to tie me down with silver directly from him?” The quick glance exchanged between the two of him confirmed his suspicions. “I see... I _personally_ think loyalty such as yours should be rewarded, but I’d hate to think that a simple moment of improvisation on your part could jeopardise your future in The Devouring.”

 _Now that struck a chord._ “How do you know that name?” Corpus barked. “You work at the Ministry?”

“No. I don’t. But I did hear it from a Ministry source. Honestly, you all must be more careful. I’m assuming you haven’t already planted followers in the Ministry- as you’re doing such a piss-poor job of keeping them off your back.” Draco’s voice sounded almost bored, but inside his mind was racing, _how much longer can Harry bleed?_

“Planted followers?” The smaller man wrinkled his nose in confusion.

“It’s surely a part of Fenrir’s plan. Perhaps he already has and you’ve not been told.” He shrugged as best he could against the restraints. He was beginning to feel himself weakening, “I would only trust those closest to me with the identities of my spies. The Dark Lord told very few who he kept in his service.” The two men exchanged glances again and Draco saw Corpus looking at the burns on his legs with trepidation. “As you can see, you hardly need to wait around for Fenrir to, what was it you said? ‘convince me’?” Draco scoffed. “I have been looking for a way to get in touch with him ever since I learned of your existence. My new… condition gives me power I never dreamed possible whilst I was still in The Dark Lord’s service. Fenrir’s harnessing our power in a way he never even dreamed.” Draco’s voice dripped with awe and he knew he’d finally said the right thing. _I couldn’t kill them both in this state, not without my wand… and not without endangering Harry…_ “I suppose we’ll just wait for Master Greyback to arrive and see what he has to say about all this.” He sighed and strained halfheartedly against the silver chains, gasping as the pain seared through his flesh.

“We could wait here with you... without the chains,” the smaller man suggested meekly, “If that would be more comfortable for you, sir.”

Draco smiled, “I would imagine it would be.” He glanced at Harry in what he hoped was a casual way, “Oh, and would it be possible to get a blood-replenishing potion for my human?” Both men looked at Harry’s crumpled body, suddenly suspicious.

“We’ll make sure you’re well fed.” Corpus said, slipping heavy dragon-hide gloves on to remove Draco’s binding.

“Of course, only this particular human is… well, he takes care of me in more ways than one. He's a particular favorite of mine,” Draco gave them a cheeky grin and continued, “we have an arrangement.”

“Our mission is to eliminate the human scum!” The small one piped up.

“Well there’s your problem. See, that’s well and good for werewolves like Fenrir, but we can’t exactly purge the world of our only food source, now can we?” Draco reasoned.

“The Devouring will create a world free of the scourge of humanity.”

  
Draco sighed, “And I obviously support that. Really, I do. But you must understand that we can’t survive without humans?" They looked uncertain so he lowered his voice as though he was letting them in on a secret, "That’s why we must control them. They’re weak creatures, eager to do anything you command, when given the right _motivation_.” Draco let the last word hang ominously as he fixed the men once more with a hard stare, “A blood-replenishing potion. Quick as you like. If my human dies I shan’t come quietly and I guarantee Fenrir will hear about why.”

The two men looked hesitant but finally Corpus nodded, and the little man scurried out of the room. Corpus gently pulled the chains off of Draco’s legs, wincing as Draco moaned in pain. “Sorry about all this.” He said, _he’s trying to chat? Now?_ “Not many of our recruits are quite so willing.”

Draco didn’t answer, focusing instead on listening for Harry’s heartbeat, which was now so faint he couldn’t be sure he wasn’t imagining it. With a sharp gasp the last chain, _the one around my bloody neck,_ was removed and Draco tried to sit up, only to discover that he was hardly able to move at all. “That’s much better.” Draco nodded his approval with some difficulty. “Now. Either I must go to him or he must be brought to me. I’ll need to do my best to heal the wounds he’s suffered.”

Corpus looked unhappy, but nodded, making his way over to Harry and picking him up more carefully than Draco had expected. _Well that’s something, at least._

He laid Harry down on the bed and Draco struggled to bend over him, quickly and efficiently examining his wounds. _This is deep,_ he thought as the fear began to mount in his gut. _I would need a wand to heal this, and even then… he needs to go to hospital…_

“My wand.” Draco demanded, holding out his hand expectantly.

“I’m sorry, Mister Malfoy. We will ensure your wand is returned to you safely _after_ the Master has spoken with you.” Corpus was eying Harry with a strange expression and Draco began to feel more worried by the moment. _You’ve lost your wand before._ He knew it was a foolish thing to waste time worrying about. _To Harry, in fact._ He looked down at Harry, whose skin had gone pale. The color was fading from even his lips.

“Looks like this one’s done.” Corpus hissed. Without warning his hand darted out and grasped Harry’s arm, pulling it toward him, “Hate to let the last few drops go to waste.”

That was absolutely the wrong thing to do.

                          

Draco felt as though he’d exploded. He hadn’t had time to think of a spell when Corpus was thrown bodily across the room, smashing into the wall with such force that it left a spider web of cracks in the wall. Around them the air was humming and Draco could feel his magic wrapping itself around Harry of its own accord. With a sharp crack and a familiar pulling sensation a shocked Draco clung to Harry as they were apparated out of the room.

 

Draco held Harry against him as they landed hard. Meanwhile, all around them Draco could hear onlookers begin to gasp, some shouting for help and others yelling for Draco to let go of Harry. Draco opened his eyes to find himself lying in the center of the Grand Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. There he lay, holding Harry’s lifeless body, the both of them covered in blood, in the middle of the Ministry. His first thought was of Harry, his second was of Azkaban.

Several aurors’ footsteps could be heard, and Draco heard the painfully familiar voice of Ron Weasley shouting, “Out of my way! Out of my w- HARRY!” He felt Harry being wrenched from his arms and bared his fangs at Ron without thinking. “Malfoy get off him! Malfo- Merlin's beard! Draco Malfoy's a bloody vampire!”

His shout echoed in the large room, but Draco was no longer concerned with being outed. “Get him to St. Mungo’s!” He hissed, “And Weasley!” Ron spun around and pointed his wand between Draco’s eyes, “The Devouring is in a muggle hotel near the sea. It’s near enough to hear one of those weather buoys muggles set up.”

Ron’s fury seemed to shift to confusion, but didn’t ask any questions as he, still clutching Harry, vanished on the spot, leaving Draco curled up on the floor of the Atrium, motionless, wandless, and alone.

 

 

 


	7. Mending

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's future is more uncertain than ever.

The slapping of the North Sea against the jagged rocks was deafening. Inside the cold stone cell, a fine layer of sea-spray covered every surface. The dementors were long gone, banished from the small, bleak island, but even with aurors now roaming the corridors, the very notion of happiness seemed a distant memory. Draco sat with his back against the slick wall, his knees tucked up to his chest and the life gone from his eyes. It had been four days since he had somehow apparated them into the Ministry. Four days since they'd pulled Harry's lifeless body from his arms.

 

**_You are to be held in Azkaban while awaiting sentencing. Aurors will escort you to the Ministry once a date has been set for your trial. In the meantime, you will be allowed to feed once a week from a willing, ministry-approved donor._ **

Draco hadn’t kept the letter; he hadn’t even thought to ask if he’d be allowed. He’d been escorted by the Aurors back to the manor, where he was allowed to wait under heavy guard until the owl from the Minister’s office had rapped on the window.

 _Harry Potter's dead._ Draco knew that was the only explanation. _They think I’m the one who killed him._ He shuddered at the idea. As much as he wanted to escape his thoughts, they were the only company he had now.

 

_Draco woke with a start, realizing he was still lying on the landing above the Great Hall as the Battle raged within. He vaguely recalled the vampire offering him something, and he turned his head with some difficulty to see the vampire's body, relieved of its head, lying beside him. He tried to sit up but his head was spinning. It was quieter out here, and a single voice was floating through the air. Harry Potter was shouting at someone. Draco’s vision blurred and he slipped out of consciousness again. When he came to the Great Hall had erupted in cheers and shouts! Nearer, he could hear footsteps charging toward him. “Draco! Oh Draco! I told you, Lucius! I told you he was alive!” He felt his mother’s hand on his blood-stained face as his father lifted him into his arms. He wondered vaguely who had won the house cup, the cheers below had become so explosive. Suddenly he began to writhe in his father’s arms. Lucius’  warm body against his had thrown him into a panic. “No! No!” He shouted, wrenching himself out of his grip. “Stay away from me!” he shouted. He threw himself back against the castle wall and began to sob uncontrollably. His mother rushed forward, but Draco snapped his eyes up to look at her and he knew by the look on her face that they had gone completely black. “Don’t touch me.” He hissed, “Please, mother... I don’t want to hurt you.”_

_He remembered their first year together. After his parents’ trials Lucius had been confined to the Manor. He’d managed to buy his way out of the less serious allegations, but his role as a Death Eater, no matter how out-of-favour with the Dark Lord he may have been, was clear and for that he had to be punished. His influence held out just enough to ensure that he’d only be given house arrest, with the Ministry blissfully unaware what was now living in it alongside him._

_Draco hadn’t slept for the first several months and he remembered hearing his parents downstairs arguing one night about what they were to do._

_“We can’t send him away, Lucius! He’s our son!”_

_“Our son was killed. That thing took his place.” Lucius had spat and Draco could hear his mother sob._

_“He can’t survive on his own!” Narcissa had pleaded, “Don’t make him go!”_

_“What would you have me do?”_

_“We could bring people here. Muggles. We would wipe their memories after, no one would have to know!” His mother’s voice had been soft and insistent._

_“Muggles?” The sound of glass breaking punctuated his father’s words, “You would have Draco feed from Muggles? What good is the Malfoy name now? No heir! No status! No pride!”_

A clang against the door announced the hourly check by the Auror on duty. Draco looked up, his eyes wet with tears and made brief eye contact before the face vanished, returning him to his solitude.

 

_He remembered following his father, young enough that Lucius still towered over his son. He watched his father’s silvery hair swish along with his robes as they strolled through the Atrium at the Ministry.  
“You will wait outside while I speak to the Minister.” Lucius’s voice left no room for argument and Draco knew well enough to only nod. He stood eagerly as his father handed over his wand to be weighed. _

_“And when does the young Master Draco get his wand?” The kindly witch at the Security desk had asked._

_“This afternoon, after I’ve met with the Minister” Lucius said, uninterested. Draco had to force himself not to beam with delight at the prospect of finally getting his wand. He’d been begging his parents, usually quite agreeable to the idea of giving Draco special privileges, for years, but they’d insisted he wait until he got his Hogwarts letter.  
The meeting with the Minister went quickly and Draco was soon back in the Atrium waiting eagerly beside the fireplaces. His father went first, always, and Draco watched his steely expression as he stepped into the flames. “Diagon Alley.” He said softly and with a whoosh he was gone. Draco wiped the stupid smile from his face, reminding himself that he was a Malfoy, that he was about to start at Hogwarts, and that he would undoubtedly be in the house that his family had been in for generations. It was time to grow up. He stepped forward, dropping the powder at his feet, “Diagon Alley!”_

Another loud clang startled Draco from his reminiscing. _Too soon for them to be back…_ He looked up and this time the freckled face before him looked familiar.  
“Oi, Malfoy.” Weasley’s voice sounded strange after such a long stretch of silence. “Time to go.”

Draco stood quickly, his back still against the wall as the heavy door was wrenched open. “My trial?” he asked. _Ready to be bound and brought to the Ministry_.

“Turns out your tip on the Devouring panned out.” Weasley sounded mildly impressed, “They found the place and were able gather up most of the followers that night. Just got word this morning that one of them had information about Greyback’s whereabouts. We found him, but he wouldn’t come quietly.” Weasley looked decidedly pleased about the turn of events. “Turns out even the strongest werewolf can’t withstand 10 stunning spells at once.”

Draco’s brow furrowed, “He’s dead?”

Weasley’s eyes narrowed, “Disappointed, Malfoy?”

Draco let out a laugh that surprised them both. “Disappointed?” He smiled the first genuine smile in almost a week, “Thrilled, more like. I always hated that filthy-“ Draco stopped himself, he thought he remembered something about Weasley’s older brother being a werewolf. He sighed and looked at Ron’s face, “So am I free to go?”

Weasley nodded.

“Harry?” Draco couldn’t help the note of fear in his voice.

“He’s alive. He’s still in hospital.”  Ron looked uncertain. “He hasn’t regained consciousness, though.”

“What?” Draco stepped forward so quickly that Weasley’s hand twitched toward his wand. “It’s been four days!” Draco was aghast. “What’s taking the healers so long?”

Ron shook his head, “I dunno. We’ve spoken to everyone but no one seems to know quite why he hasn’t come out of it.”

“I need to see him.” Draco said forcefully.

Ron opened his mouth, _no doubt for some half-witted jab,_ but closed it again and nodded. “They’ve dropped the charges against you since Harry’s lived and your information was good… So you’re free to do whatever you’d like… but,” He fixed Draco with an uncharacteristically stern expression, “They’ll be watching you closely. Without Harry’s side of things, we can’t be sure you weren’t working with them. Harry’s report from his visit saying you don’t know anything is the last piece of information the Ministry has… and then, what with not telling anyone about…” He trailed off. “You’d just better be careful.”

Draco was strangely moved by Weasley’s warning. _Sure, he’d still pay a galleon to get to be the one to kill me…_ He smiled. Weasley looked taken aback.

Draco couldn’t wait another second. He needed to get to London. “They took my wand when they captured us… any chance it’s been returned? Only I’ve had so many now…”

Ron shook his head. “Sorry, Malfoy. Haven’t seen anything in any of the reports.”

“In that case, I’m sorry to ask this of you, but can you take me back to London?”  
After a moment’s hesitation, Weasley nodded and gripped Draco’s shoulder as they vanished with a pop. When they stopped spinning they were standing in Diagon Alley, just beyond Olivander’s Shop.

“Why are we here?” Draco asked in bewilderment.

“Thought you said you’d lost your wand…” Ron was clearly confused, “Where’d you want to go?”

“To see Harry!” Draco cried, not waiting for Weasley as he sprinted back toward the Leakey Cauldron. He had no money on him, but grabbed the floo powder regardless and threw it into the flames, “St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries” he shouted in a single breath and he was gone.

 

***

 

Draco hurled himself past the rows of wooden chairs in the large entryway to the desk with the sign marked INQUIRIES. “I’m here to see Harry Potter.” He said, his anxiety seeping into his voice.

“You from the Prophet?” The witch asked dubiously. “We’re not allowing any press.”

“No. I’m a friend.” Draco shook his head as she looked him up and down. _I haven’t changed._ He realized with a start. He was still wearing the shabby grey robes given to him when they’d taken him to Azkaban. Grateful, at least, that the robes were merely tattered and unsightly, rather than embroidered with “Azkaban Prison” or something of the like, Draco met her gaze again. “I was the one who brought him to safety. Auror Weasley tells me he still hasn’t regained consciousness. I’m just here to visit, Ma’am.”  
“Very well,” the witch finally acquiesced, her hesitation palpable, “but you’ll have to leave your wand with me. You may retrieve it as you leave,” she said, moving a stack of parchment to make room on her desk.

“Oh, I don’t have one.” Draco said, knowing how frankly unbelievable it sounded. “It’s quite a long story, but I don’t have one on me at the moment. You’re welcome to search me if you’d like.”

Her eyebrows knitted together, but she finally sighed and nodded, handing him a visitor’s badge, “Ground floor, Veritan Vissilius Ward. Down the corridor to the left.”

Draco thanked her and pushed his way through the large double doors, following her directions to the doors marked: VERITAN VISSILIUS WARD: ILLNESSES AND INJURIES OF INDISCERNIBLE ORIGIN _._

Draco pushed them open and found a very tall room with a single, very long window that let in thick ropes of sunlight. There were 8 beds along each wall, and more than half were occupied. He was just looking for a Healer to point him toward Harry’s bed when a familiar and clearly livid voice made him look round.

“How _dare_ you!” Hermione had been seated on a stool beside a bed on the farthest end of the room when he’d come in and was now storming toward him with fire in her eyes. “How dare you!” She said again as she reached him and, to his great surprise, slapped him hard across the face. He heard the gasps of the other patients and visitors, but he kept his head down. “Ms. Granger-“

“No. You get out of here right now!” She sounded murderous and he wondered briefly whether she’d had her wand confiscated at the desk. “You didn’t tell me it was _him!_ ” she spat, “I _never_ would have helped you if I knew it was Harry! You took advantage of me, and you took advantage of him! Now look at him!” She pushed him roughly back against the door. “You’ve nearly killed him!”

“I freely admit I was a fool,” He raised his eyes to meet her gaze, “but I swear to you I did all I could. I got him here as quickly as possible!”  

“Not near quickly enough!” She shouted.

“I had to persuade them to let me go! I did everything I could to get to him! I was listening to his heartbeat the whole time!” His voice was pleading; _I have to see him._ The need was more palpable now that he was so close, he could smell Harry’s blood in the room and it was making him restless.

“And the amount of blood he lost? I suppose you’ll say you had nothing to do with that?” Her voice was malicious, it reminded him of the fiery Granger he’d once loathed.  
Now it was Draco’s turn to glare, “I don’t like what you’re implying.”

“You don’t _like it_?” She said, incredulously. “Malfoy, I don’t give a hinkypuck’s arse what you like. You’re a vampire who came to me wanting to learn more about how the bite affected certain _unnamed_ humans. You swore it was purely academic curiosity, and I warned you that it’s terribly dangerous for the human involved. Yet here we are,” Her voice cracked and Draco watched tears well in her eyes, “and they don’t know if he’s going to wake up.”

Draco didn’t know whether it would be appropriate to comfort her, but after a second’s hesitation he took a chance and put his hand gently on her shoulder. She let out a soft sob. “I’m so sorry, Hermione.” His voice was soft and caring, but he couldn’t wait any longer, “I have to see him… It’s not just the arrangement we had, you see.” She looked up, not quite understanding. “I care about him, Hermione. Very much.” He hesitated, “I think… I think I may love him.”

Hermione let out a choked sound and took a step back. Draco couldn’t tell what she was feeling from her expression, _fear or disgust, most likely._ He dropped his gaze, unable to keep meeting her eyes and walked as quickly as he could toward Harry’s bed.

Potter’s hair was messy as always, and he looked a bit paler than usual, but on the whole, Draco was surprised to see him looking so well. He took Harry’s hand in his own, gently, and used the other to pull a second stool right up to his bedside. “I’m here, Harry.” He whispered, “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Granger return to her seat across the bed from him, but he didn’t look at her. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Harry.

“They say he’s doing much better, physiologically.” She said gently, sniffling.

“His heartbeat is strong. He’s been resting long enough his red blood cell count should be back to healthy levels.” Draco nodded, listening to Harry’s rhythmic breaths.

Hermione said nothing and after a minute Draco looked up to find her staring at him with a curious expression. “You’ve thought about becoming a Healer.” It wasn’t a question.

“I did before. In school. Now it’s out of the question.” He dropped his gaze back to Harry’s tranquil face.

“Hardly.” She scoffed and he looked up in surprise. “Plenty of magical creatures hold perfectly respectable places in all walks of wizarding life. Surely you know that?”

He shook his head, “Not like this. I’d be far too great a liability.”

“On the contrary,” her voice was surprisingly insistent, “I think you’d be a terrific asset. You would obviously specialise in haematology. It’s a tricky specialisation because it requires tremendous precision. You’d be able to find the source of the problem much easier than any human Healer could.” She was watching him with what looked like a strange mixture of curiosity and pride.

Draco sighed, _she thinks I haven’t thought of this? It won’t matter how useful I can be when a patient with an open wound comes in and I can’t control myself._ He didn’t answer her, returning his eyes to Harry once more.

 

The door opened at the far end of the hall and a very out of breath Weasley came barreling in. “Merlin, Malfoy!” He continued to glare at Draco as Hermione stood to greet him with a kiss on his cheek. “You could’ve warned me!”

“Warned you?” Hermione asked, concerned.

“He took off on me in Diagon Alley. Sprinting like a madman.” Weasley shook his head. “Then I had to deal with Tom, you owe me 4 knuts, by the way.” He straightened his robes and looked as though he meant to continue his rant, but he stopped short when he saw Harry’s hand in Draco’s. “What are you doing?

Draco looked at him without expression. “I don’t think I understand your question.”

“I said ‘what are you doing’ and I meant what are you doing?” Ron’s voice had taken on a dangerous edge. “Let go of him.”

“Ron.” Hermione quietly took his arm but Weasley’s expression didn’t change.

“I don’t think I will.” Draco said softly. His voice was calm, but the challenge behind it was clear. _Try to make me._

Ron took a step forward as Hermione tried to hold him back. “That’s my best mate, and you’d better take your hands off him!”

Draco had had enough of this nonsense and shifted around on the stool so that his back was to Ron as he defiantly brought his other hand to cover Harry’s.

“I’m warning you, Malfoy!” Ron’s voice was no longer quiet and controlled, he was now dangerously close to shouting, yet Draco ignored him.

“Ronald! Stop it!” Hermione barked, “Draco clearly doesn’t mean Harry any harm.”

“He’s holding his bloody hand!” Ron snapped, “How’d you think Harry would feel about that?”

Draco knew he should keep his mouth shut, but despite all the things the years had taken from him, his pettiness had remained perfectly intact. “If the last few nights are anything to go by, I daresay he’d quite enjoy it.” Draco’s voice remained barely above a whisper but the clatter behind him told him that Weasley’d heard him well enough to try to attack him. _Good thing Granger’s holding him back. I’d hate to have to afford Weasley a bed of his own._

“You take that back, Malfoy!” Ron growled, “Hermione- gerroff!”

“Draco! You’re not making this any easier on yourself!” Hermione hissed.

Draco didn’t acknowledge either one of them, his back still turned staunchly toward them as he continued to watch Harry’s chest rise and fall.

“I swear, Malfoy- Ow!“  Hermione must’ve elbowed him and with a few muttered curses Ron finally fell silent.

The three of them were silent for several minutes before Draco turned to ask a question of Hermione, “Do you know if they’ve attempted to reach him through Legilimency?”

Hermione’s expression darkened, “I don’t know, Draco, but I forbid you to try it. We have no idea the fragile state his mind may be in. If you want to speak to the Healer-in-Charge, I’ll gladly call her over, but you absolutely must not do anything until you’ve spoken with her about the risks!”

“It’s been four days, Ms. Granger!  I don’t know what kind of risks you’re imagining at this point, but the greatest risk seems to me to be that he might never wake up.” He held her gaze until she finally looked away and he sighed. “But… I won’t do anything until I’ve spoken to his Healers.”

She met his eyes again and nodded gratefully.

 

***

 

It was that evening before the Healer-In-Charge was free to sit down with Draco to discuss Harry’s condition.

“He presented obviously suffering from sustained blood loss over a period of time.” The Healer didn’t bother to disguise his suspicion as he looked Draco up and down, “That, combined with the blood loss from his abdominal wound, was more than his body could handle and he went into hypovolaemic shock. Of course, this is not the first time we’ve treated a donor with life-threatening blood loss, but we typically expect them to make a full recovery after we’ve administered the concentrated Blood-Replenishing Potions. The fact that he’s still not regained consciousness is certainly cause for concern.”

Draco shot an anxious glance at Harry, “have all options been exhausted?”

“We’ve followed our standard procedure for cases like this. At this point there’s very little we can do besides wait and ensure his body continues to recuperate.”

“What about Legilimency?” Draco asked directly. “Surely it’s an option that must be considered at this stage?”  
“We very rarely bring in Legilimens. It’s a dangerous thing to interact in that way with a mind so vulnerable….”

“At what point would you consider it a viable option?” Draco ventured, knowing precisely how unusual the request was.

“Most Legilimens would require advance notice to prepare for such an encounter… Like I said, it involves an unusual level of personal risk to the Legilimens themself.”

“I am a willing volunteer.” Draco said without missing a beat. “I have studied Legilimency extensively. Even before the war I was given private tutorials. I assure you, I am as good as anyone you would bring in, and I need no time to prepare. I fully accept the risks.”

The Healer-in-Charge looked decidedly less comfortable with this line of enquiry, “Be that as it may, I cannot allow just anyone to perform risky and inadvisable magic on one of my patients.”

“The time for safe and advisable magic has clearly passed,” Draco said with conviction, reaching down to take Harry’s hand once more, “and I am not ‘just anyone’. Harry and I have a mutual arrangement and as part of that arrangement I have agreed to keep him safe. A promise I failed to keep, but now there may be a way for me to make amends for my foolishness.”

The deep frown lines in the Healer’s face looked as though they were deepening by the second. “I will speak to the Head of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, but I highly doubt they will be willing to make such an exception, particularly on _this_ patient.” The Healer shot a glance at Harry and sighed, “I wish I could offer you happier news, Mister Malfoy.”

Draco frowned, _this sort of brush-off would never have happened to his father._ He’d barely had the thought when an idea occurred to him. “Thank you for your time,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m sure you know my family has a long history of generous patronage to St. Mungo’s. Should this all work out, I should expect a sizable donation would be warranted for your department.” He shook the Healer-in-Charge’s hand firmly and added, “I shall return first thing in the morning. I do hope a decision might be reached before then.”

He cast one more concerned glance at Harry, but if he was going to be able to reach Harry he’d need some supplies, not least of which being a new wand.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter became far more detailed than I originally imagined, I've added another chapter to the total, hopefully I'm able to rein it in for the last few chapters.


	8. Vantage Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco takes a risk. Harry takes control.

**Mr. Malfoy,**

**Your request has been approved by the Board of Directors of St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. We await your owl to confirm your willingness to participate in an experimental treatment process.**

**Kind regards,**

**Eliza Finnegut**

**Deputy Head, Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes**

Draco was greeted in the reception area the following morning by a young, handsome Trainee Healer named Mohammed Alemrani.

“We were surprised, quite frankly, that your idea was approved.” He confided as he escorted Draco to a private room on the ground floor. He paused with his hand on the knob and gave Draco a very serious and appraising look, “What you’re proposing is very dangerous. For you both. I want you to be absolutely sure that this is what you want to do. It’s only been five days,” he pointed out, “he may yet come out of it on his own.”

“And he may not.” Draco shook his head, “I appreciate your concern, but I have an obligation to do everything I can. I owe him that.”

Alemrani seemed to decide against saying anything further and pushed the door open. The room was relatively small, clearly set up as a teaching room for trainee Healers as the walls were lined with chairs, giving the room an atmosphere strangely reminiscent of the Wizengamot. At the center of the room Harry was laid on a simple cot. Several healers were sitting against one of the walls, observing. Seeing the stark contrast from the relatively welcoming ward, Draco couldn’t help but wonder if he was making the right decision.

“Do Assistant Deputy Head Granger and Auror Weasley know that this is happening?” Draco whispered to Alemrani.

“They were informed of the Board’s decision last night.” He replied, keeping his voice low as well. _I like him._ Draco decided. _He’s not afraid of me, nor is he feeding me nonsense because of my name._

“How’d they take it?” He asked, and Alemrani gave him a look that said quite clearly, _you know how they took it._ “I see.” Draco nodded gravely, “but they’re not here?”

“Both too busy, I’m afraid.” The healers at the center of the room had finished faffing about Harry’s cot and Alemrani nodded to Draco, signaling that his time had come.

 “Mister Malfoy?” A middle-aged witch in the center of the room drew up a chair with her wand, “We’re ready for you.”

Draco glanced at Alemrani, who gave him a reassuring look, _at least one person believes in me,_ he thought. _Weasley and Granger should be here._ Draco smoothed his robes and drew his new wand, _Holly and dragon heartstring- 10 ½ inches,_ from his robes.

“Thank you, but I prefer to stand.” He walked to the center of the room and stood beside Harry’s bed, taking his hand gently once more. _I’m here for you, Harry. I’m going to bring you back._

“We’ll be standing by to assist if his condition changes.” A tall wizard said with a stern expression. If that is the case, we may require you to break the connection.”

Draco shook his head, “I won’t give up on him.”  
“You won’t have a choice.” The wizard said with an air of finality. “If his condition worsens we will not allow you to continue.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed, but he couldn’t risk antagonizing them. He turned back to Harry, gave his hand a small squeeze and cleared his own mind. _Last chance._

 

_“Legilimens!”_

Draco was once again inside Harry’s mind. He watched, fascinated, as memories from Harry’s childhood, as opposite from Draco’s as he could imagine, flashed by. He watched Harry stepping on his massive muggle uncle’s face trying to sneak downstairs to get his Hogwarts letter. He watched Harry comfort a crying Hagrid after the incident in their first year with the dragon. He watched in horror as his father confronted Harry and his friends at the Ministry, Harry was clutching a glass orb, undoubtedly the Prophecy, as Lucius’ taunting voice hissed from beneath his hood. Draco began to probe deeper, _It’s no good to delve into Harry’s mind if all I do is wander around his memories._ He began, without much difficulty, to sort through Harry’s underlying thoughts. Between lessons with his aunt and Severus, he’d gotten quite good at navigating minds. A skill he’d practiced considerably often since the War ended.

Though Harry’s conscious thoughts were too fuzzy to accurately interpret, Draco was delighted to discover that he was still experiencing emotional responses to his surroundings. Harry’s mind was foggy, and trying to navigate it was a bit like walking the streets of London before dawn. Draco knew, theoretically, where to look, but he wasn’t able to see where he was going through the mist of Harry’s unconsciousness.

 _Help me out, Harry,_ he plead silently.

To his surprise, the mist around him thinned ever so slightly, Harry’s mind filling with a soft purple light.

 _That’s it, Potter!_ Draco smiled, _I’m looking for you!_

Before him was a long Hogwarts corridor, complete with portraits and suits of armor and doors on either side. _What are the chances?_ Draco smirked. When his Aunt Bella had asked him to build defenses in his mind against intrusion, he’d automatically thought of Hogwarts. Harry had apparently had the same thought. They’d both come from radically different childhoods, both had entirely different experiences at school, and both loathed each other almost from first sight. Yet despite all that, Draco and Harry both thought of Hogwarts as the safest place they’d ever known.

 _You’re safe again now, Harry._ He focused his energy, diving deeper. Then, without warning, he found himself outside, on the Quidditch pitch. An 11 year old Harry was wearing his Gryffindor Quidditch kit, sitting in the center of the pitch.

“Harry?” Draco took several cautious steps forward.  Harry was sat picking at the grass as he sat there, his Nimbus 2000 beside him and didn’t acknowledge Draco in any way. “Harry?” It wasn’t until Draco was standing beside him, looking down at the boy that Harry looked up.

“Why are you here?” He asked, his voice was high and soft, not confident like the Harry Potter of today.

“I’ve come to take you home.” Draco said, joining him on the grass.

“I am home.” Little Harry said, returning to his grass-picking.

“There are people who miss you. Weas- Ron… and Hermione. They miss you very much.” He saw a small flicker of remorse play on Harry’s face. “And I miss you.”

Harry looked up at that, “you?”

Draco nodded and Harry’s brow furrowed, “I miss you terribly. It’s my fault you’re here.” Draco said softly, plucking a few blades of grass himself, “I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry, Harry.”

Harry looked at Draco appraisingly and then leaned closer to him to whisper, “What if I don’t want to go back?”

Draco thought about it. _Hadn’t really considered that…_ but he was resolute in his answer, “Then I’ll stay here with you.”

Harry looked shocked. “You can’t…”

Draco shook his head, “I’m not leaving you again, Potter. Besides, there’s nothing out there for me anyway.”

Harry scrutinised him once more, but finally held out his hand.

Draco smiled and no sooner had he taken little Harry’s hand then he was back in St Mungo’s, standing beside Harry’s bed.

The Healers suddenly began to whisper amongst themselves and Draco noticed that, for the first time since Draco had arrived by his bedside, Harry was stirring.

 

 

***

 

Harry was fucking furious.

Draco was stood over him, smiling like an idiot when he finally opened his eyes and it was the _last_ thing he wanted to see.

“Get the fuck away from me, Malfoy!” he croaked, his voice broken and his throat dry. “Get out of my sight!”

Draco’s smile faded to a look of intense betrayal and hurt, but Harry didn’t care. He turned his head so that he didn’t have to see Malfoy’s face anymore. _What a fucking wanker._ Harry heard several of the Healers murmuring and he turned his attention to them, “I want him out.” He said plainly, and everyone in the room knew there was no room for interpretation.

He didn’t look back, but couldn’t block out Draco’s shouts of protest as the Healers ushered him out of the room. There were a few gasps and Harry heard the unmistakable sound of a shield charm, _he showed his fucking fangs._ Harry whipped his head around and watched with disinterest as Draco, eyes black, fangs bared, tears running down his face, was forced out of the room. A tall dark wizard in St Mungo’s robes went with him, speaking softly to the Healer-in-Charge before closing the door behind himself.

Harry felt suddenly exhausted. Not caring that he only just woke up, he dozed in and out as the Healers bustled around him.

 

He was in a different room when he woke up this time. _This room’s much nicer…_ he thought darkly, _I don’t know why I wasn’t in here in the first place._ There was a very tall window and sunlight was streaming in. Harry was pleased to see that he also wasn’t secluded. There were at least four other patients, with a few more beds cordoned off by curtains so he couldn’t tell if whether they were occupied or not. Several of the other patients had visitors and Harry couldn’t help feel a pang of anger that no one was here visiting him. _I expect Ron and Hermione will want to stop by._ Harry lifted his head, which felt remarkably clear, and made eye contact with a passing witch in a St. Mungo’s uniform. “Sorry, have my friends been told I’m awake?” he asked her.

“Let me check, dear.” She hurried off and Harry slumped back down onto his pillows.

After a few moments a tall Healer with beautifully dark hair and skin joined Harry at his bedside. “Mister Potter.” She had a foreign accent and serious expression, but her eyes sparkled kindly. “I’m glad to see you up and feeling better.”

Harry just nodded, unsure what she was expecting him to say.

“I think I speak for everyone here at St. Mungo’s when I express my surprise that Mister Malfoy was able to bring you back.” Harry gave her a sharp look, but she kept her expression unreadable. “He was quite insistent that he would be able to reach you through Legilimency and, given the circumstances of your condition, we thought it was our best option.”

Harry shifted uncomfortably in his bed, but said nothing.

“Of course, even then it was terribly unlikely. That he was successful, well, that’s…” She trailed off looking at Harry’s hostile expression. “You must be very grateful,” she said with a knowing look.

Harry wasn’t in the mood to be lectured to so he changed the subject, “Have my friends been told I’m awake? Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger?”

She nodded, “they’ve both been informed.”

“Did they say if they were coming?” He asked impatiently.

“They were both informed this morning. We’ve had no reply from either of them.”

Harry sighed and stared at the ceiling above him, _so they’re too busy to even check in on me._

“We will be able to discharge you tomorrow.” The Healer said matter-of-factly and Harry looked at her with surprise.

“Not any sooner?”

“We’ll need to keep you at least 24 hours to determine what, if any, remaining symptoms you experience.”

Harry nodded and she strode away, disappearing behind one of the curtains near the middle of the room. _I should send them an owl,_ Harry thought distractedly as he slipped into a doze once more.

 ***

“Harry?”

“Harry? Can you hear us, mate?”

The Hospital ward was significantly darker as it swam into focus. The sunlight was gone, replaced by the flicker of candlelight up and down the room.

“Ron?” Harry asked groggily. “Hermione?”

He turned his head gingerly and saw their faces smiling down at him.  
“Oh, Harry!” Hermione pulled him into a fierce hug and he laughed, the anger at his perceived abandonment dissolving in an instant as he squeezed her tightly.

“It worked?” Ron’s disbelief was palpable. “I mean, no offence, Harry, but we didn’t think Draco could pull it off.”

Hermione smiled at Ron and nodded appreciatively. “We spoke this morning and Ron’s agreed to give Draco another chance,” she explained to Harry.

“Don’t bother.” Harry muttered.

Ron shot a look at Hermione and sat next to Harry on his bed, “what happened?”

“So he told you both about us?” Harry spat.

Hermione looked at him bashfully, “it kind of, erm, came out. He didn’t tell us anything we didn’t figure out on our own, really.”

Harry ignored her, “He promised he wouldn’t say anything. But I suppose I was stupid to believe him.”

Ron now looked thoroughly confused, “What happened?” he asked again.

Harry glared, “he attacked a woman right in front of me and we got into a huge row, then he tried to use the Cruciatus curse on me.” Hermione’s gasp energised him and he continued, “Only reason he didn’t do it was those thugs showed up and immobilised us. Then, I wake up on the ground and he’s in the middle of explaining to these creeps how best to subjugate humans. He’s a fucking monster and it doesn’t matter how good he is at hiding it, he deserves to be put down.”

Hermione pulled up a stool and sat down squarely facing him, “Harry, I think you’re being really unfair. If he tried to use an unforgivable curse on you, well that’s totally unacceptable, but he’s the one who saved you… he brought you to the ministry, he stayed by your side constantly, not to mention he’s the one who was able to reach you through Legilimency.” She sighed, “Have you spoken to him?”

Harry was livid. _Figures._ He thought, _of course Hermione would stick up for the vampire over her best friend._ “I told him to sod off this morning.”

To Harry’s surprise, Ron, too, was shaking his head. “I dunno. I reckon you owe it to him to hear him out. I mean, he spent four days in Azkaban and all he asked me about when they let him go was how you were doing. He’s a prat, sure.” He said with a shrug, ignoring the sharp glance from Hermione, “but he obviously fancies you more than he’s willing to admit.” Ron gave Harry a small smile, “besides, it was his information that led us to The Devouring.”

Harry sat bolt upright, “you found them?”

Ron’s smile grew into a toothy grin and he nodded proudly, “even without our best auror. Tracked down all the members, can you believe the gits were stupid enough to keep a list of associates?” He added with a laugh, “and just two days ago we got a tip-off from one of the members about Greyback’s location.”

“And?” Harry asked eagerly.

“Dead. 10 stunning spells to the chest.” Ron didn’t even try to hide his delight and Harry surprised them both by letting out a whoop of joy.

“That’s brilliant work, Ron!” He smiled, “Seriously brilliant work!”

“Wouldn’t have happened without Malfoy’s help.” Ron said gently, bringing Harry back to earth.

Harry was silent for nearly a minute. “Fine.”

“You’ll talk to Draco?” Hermione asked eagerly.

“Yes. Yes I’ll talk to Draco.” Harry acquiesced.

“Cheers, mate.” Ron sighed, “I don’t think you’ll regret it. Blimey, I never thought I’d be sticking up for Malfoy…”

Hermione stood, “I’ll let him know, Harry.”

 

***

 

Draco hadn’t moved since that morning. He’d been escorted back to reception by Alemrani, who’d tried to console him, but Draco wasn’t interested. _He’s rejected me._

He’d apparated back to the manor and sunk into his chair by the cold fireplace. _He’s never going to speak to me again._ He could feel his self-control slipping away as tears began to stream down his cheeks. _It’s only been a month since he showed up at the manor, and now I’m crying at the idea of not seeing him again._ Draco was too distraught, too emotionally exhausted to care about what a mess he must look. He slipped onto the floor by the fireplace and curled up, wishing sleep would come so he could forget how utterly broken he felt.

 

It wasn’t until half six that he heard the insistent tapping against a window somewhere upstairs. _Tiw!_ Draco hurried up to his bedroom and found the small bird sat on the windowsill looking quite put upon.  
“Sorry, Tiw!” He apologized, taking the obligatory nips with grace as he untied the letter from the frustrated owl.

 

You have one more chance, Malfoy.

Use it wisely,

Hermione

 

Draco’s heart leapt into his chest and he thought for a brief moment about apparating straight there, but he was certain a day of lying on the floor would’ve left his clothes in a right state, so he quickly shrugged them off, choosing simple black robes and polished boots.

_Humility, Draco. He’s only going to talk to you if you can manage to keep from being an arrogant prick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I did it again. I've crammed too many things into these last few chapters in my outline, meaning it's gotten a bit longer than I anticipated. Hope you don't mind. ;)
> 
> These last few chapters have been angsty. The next chapter won't.


	9. Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A confrontation and an exploration.

Draco had hoped it would be Granger meeting him in the Reception area, _we may not get on, but at least she’s a reasonable person._

Of course, it wasn’t Hermione, but Ron who was waiting when he arrived by Floo Network.

“You took your time.” Weasley said by way of greeting.  “I thought you’d have apparated directly to Harry’s bedside.”

Draco was too nervous to answer, _what if he throws me out again? Hermione’s owl said this is my last chance._

Ron, clearly put off by Draco’s anxious silence, sighed and offered, “for what it’s worth, we think he was wrong to send you off without talking about whatever happened between you two.”

Draco looked up, _what happened between us?_

“I’m not on your side, but I think you both have a right to try to clear the air, as it were.” He turned and made for the large doors leading to the ground floor wards.

 _Weasley stuck up for me._ Draco’s head was spinning, _but what does he think happened between us?_ “Weasley?” He took a few quick steps to catch up with the redhead, “Thanks.”

Ron looked at him with an expression somewhere between disgust and acceptance. He nodded curtly as he pushed open the door to the Veritan Vissilius Ward.

At the end of the long room the bed Harry’d been in previous was blocked off, the curtains drawn.  He gave Weasley a questioning look and in return was given a shrug and a short nod.

 

Draco approached slowly, he could smell Harry behind the curtains, _Hermione’s with him,_ and wondered if he should wait outside. Draco was just wondering how one knocks on curtains when Hermione pulled the curtain aside, holding it open for Draco.

“Don’t be a prat.” She whispered as she slid past him to join Ron.

Harry was sat on the bed, still in the patients’ robes, but looking better than Draco had expected, apart from the dark circles under his eyes. Draco had to stop himself from reaching out to touch Harry’s face. Instead he sat stiffly on the stool beside the bed.

Harry was glaring at him, and Draco found he couldn’t maintain eye contact. He dropped his gaze and looked at his knees without pretence. _He’s so angry with me…_

“Well?” Harry snapped after several minutes of silence.

Draco looked up, surprised, and wasn’t sure what to say. “Well?” he repeated dumbly.

“Are you going to apologise?” Harry said mutinously.

Draco’s mind was in a panic, _what did I do?_ He thought wildly, _I should just apologise and it’ll all be done. But he clearly expects me to know what I’m apologising for, and if he finds out I apologised without meaning it I’m sure he’ll be even more livid…._ Draco found himself wishing he’d never met Harry Potter and his self-righteous moralising. “I…” he measured his words carefully, “I’ve done plenty of things for which I owe you an apology.” _Yes, Draco, good!_ “Where would you like me to begin?”

Harry’s expression remained measured, but Draco thought he saw a hint of satisfaction, “Your behaviour at Allsopp’s as a start.”

 _Allsopp’s?_ Draco was surprised, _that was days ago- surely, after everything that’s happened, he isn’t still cross about a little row?_ “I was a git. I lost control and behaved like an insolent child.” He hung his head.

 _Unless…_ suddenly the realisation of what was happening dawned on him. “Harry?” Draco looked up with a look of shock on his face, “is that the last thing you remember?”

Harry’s expression darkened, “No, Malfoy.” He spat, “I also remember lying there in a pool of my own blood while you chatted up the Devouring wankers who captured us.”

Draco’s face must’ve been so incredulous that Harry felt the need to clarify, “Don’t try to deny it, Malfoy! I heard you telling them about me and talking about how Greyback should be putting spies in the Ministry. I heard you!”

Draco managed to close his mouth, but it was too late. He couldn’t stifle the laugh that ripped out of his body like a betrayal.

Harry’s face was now livid and he grabbed his wand from the pile of things beside his bed and pointed it directly at Draco’s throat. “I’ll take your fucking head off, Malfoy, don’t think I won’t.”

Draco swallowed and held his hands up in a gesture of peace, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I’m so sorry, Harry. It’s all my fault.” He glanced at the curtains and wished Granger had stuck around to mediate. “I take full responsibility for Allsopp’s and for my behaviour. I was an arse, and I deserved everything you said at the Mansion that night. I’m also sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean any of it, I was just so afraid of losing you.” He sighed, “I protect myself, Harry, you know that. When I am afraid my instinct is to push everyone away. It’s stupid, but it’s what I’ve always done…” he was unstoppable now as the words tumbled out of his mouth, “When they took us, we were both knocked unconscious, and you were wounded badly. I woke up and they’d tied me down, I spent almost all of my energy struggling to get to you so I could heal you, but then they came in and I _knew_ the only way they’d let either of us live was if I convinced them that I was on their side.”

Harry was looking at him with suspicion, his wand still trained on Draco.

“I told them what I had to to get them to let me go and bring you over to me.” Draco insisted, “It was just me playing a role,” he insisted, “you know how good I can be at that. I’ve had years of practice, being exactly what they wanted me to be. They tied me down with silver and it had gotten into my blood,” he explained, “I was too weak to move, let alone do any wandless magic to heal you.” He looked at his knees once more, ashamed that he’d let himself become so powerless. “then, somehow, my magic got us out. It was like it knew my body couldn’t perform the spell, so it did it for me.”  
Harry’s eyes widened in surprised and Draco nodded. “We were apparated to the ministry… I think so that Weasley could take you to St. Mungo’s and I could tell the Aurors about The Devouring. You were almost dead, Harry. They thought I’d killed you.” His voice trailed off and for the first time since he started speaking there was silence.

Harry was watching Draco carefully and finally, slowly, lowered his wand. “Ron said you were in Azkaban…”

Draco nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“But they let you out?”

Draco nodded again. “They thought it was me that attacked you.” He spoke slowly, “I can’t blame them. I apparate into the middle of the Ministry covered in blood and holding the lifeless body of Harry Potter. I’d have thrown away the key if I was the Minister.”

Harry looked lost, “I… I don’t know why, but I believe you.” He finally said softly. “I don’t want to. Merlin, it’d be so much easier if I could just hate you again.” He looked up into Draco’s eyes, “but now that you’re here, all I can think is how much I missed you last night after I sent you away.”

Draco couldn’t stop himself, he took Harry’s hand off the bed and pressed his lips to it. “I thought I was dying all day yesterday.” He confessed, “I can’t believe I’ve fallen for you so hard…” He kissed Harry’s hand again and saw that tears were shimmering in Harry’s eyes.

“I thought we’d have a difficult time getting Ron and Hermione to accept you, but they both fought so hard to get me to talk to you again….”

Draco smiled, “That’s for your benefit, not mine. They’d both prefer I was _anyone_ else.”

“Can you blame them?” Harry said with a cheeky smile and Draco squeezed his hand. “I’m sure they’re waiting anxiously outside. Do you mind letting them know we’re okay?”

Now it was Draco’s turn to give Harry a smirk as he stood and sat himself down next to Harry, taking his face in his hands. “Let them wait.”

 

***

 

Harry’s things were all given to him in a small rucksack: the blood-soaked robes he’d been wearing when he came in (Draco immediately incinerated these), his wand (Draco was livid that Harry had managed to keep his wand on him the whole time, tucked away in his sock, apparently), and several books Hermione had brought him while he was unconscious (Draco privately suspected this had a hand in the length of his coma, but he knew better than to say anything). Draco had tried to insist that Harry return to the Manor with him, but the stubborn Saviour of the Wizarding World insisted he’d be much happier at his own home. He did, however, clarify that Draco would absolutely be coming with him, as he’d need plenty of nursing during his recovery. Ron had left the room at that point and Hermione had to be thumped on the back, as she’d just taken a swig of pumpkin juice.

 

They arrived at Grimmauld Place without any pomp. Harry had told Draco the location and invited him inside just before they Apparated, explaining that while it was no longer a closely-kept secret, the Fidelius Charm was still in effect. Harry pushed open the door, not giving Draco time to examine the beautiful door knocker before he was shoved unceremoniously inside by an impatient Harry.  
Draco was in awe. The gas lamps lining the entryway hissed to life as Harry shuffled past them, casting light on ancient-looking portraits of nasty looking witches and wizards, some of whom, Draco thought, looked oddly familiar. He followed Harry down the corridor past the portraits and several of them started whispering to one another, pointing at Draco.

“Harry?” Draco asked, looking around at the _last_ place he would’ve expected Harry Potter to live, “what is this place?”

Harry looked round in surprise, “Oh!” he grinned broadly, “I didn’t even think- Of course you wouldn’t know about Grimmauld place!”

Draco wasn’t sure how to take that, so he continued to examine the portraits with interest. One of them, a small plaque underneath his portrait identified him as Pollux Black, had a pointed nose that Draco thought looked awfully similar to his Aunt Bella… “Is he-” Draco’s question trailed off, not wanting to insult Potter if he was wrong, but to his surprise Harry leaned in close to look at the nameplate.

“Your great-great grandfather, I think.” Harry straightened up and looked briefly as though he were doing sums, “No, strike that, just great-grandfather. Your mother’s grandfather.” Draco was looking at him in horror, “Also, interestingly enough, a distant relative of your father, and of myself on my father’s side.” He was looking at the portrait with a neutral expression before turning and proceeding down the corridor.

“Sorry, why do you have my great grandfather’s portrait hung in your house?” Draco asked, hurrying after Harry.

“Can’t get it off the wall.” Harry sighed, “We’ve tried everything. Every few months Hermione comes over with a new spell or potion idea to unstick everything, but I think even _she’s_ close to giving up.” Harry shrugged, “I don’t mind them so much anymore. Especially since I’ve used a few muggle tricks-” He directed Draco’s attention to a pair of truly hideous curtains that had been extensively stapled to the wall behind them.

Draco nodded, unsure what that meant, “So this is how you got that house elf?”

Harry shook his head mournfully. “Kreacher’s been serving the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black his whole life.”

“So this house, it was Sirius Black’s?” Draco’s voice was hushed. He knew there had to be more to the story of Sirius Black, the Death Eater who had escaped Azkaban in his third year and somehow became a loathed name in the Malfoy home. _And apparently got on well enough with Harry to name him heir to his family’s home._ Draco knew how important a wizarding family’s home was to them. He remembered his father taking him through the Manor, showing him the heirlooms and knickknacks he’d one day inherit.

Harry nodded, but he didn’t offer any more information about Black, so Draco didn’t press him. Instead he followed Harry downstairs to the kitchen. Draco knew the Black family had all been in Slytherin, and the kitchen was clearly built to emulate the dark Hogwarts dungeons with their coarse stone walls and curved ceilings. Harry set down the rucksack and flicked his wand toward a kettle on the stove. “Tea?”

Draco said nothing, still looking up in awe, before finally sitting at the long table in the centre of the room. “I can’t believe you live in a Pureblood house like this…”

Harry chuckled and gathered a few mugs from a cupboard. “Sirius hated it here. I did too, frankly, but after the war it seemed like the best place to be. I had so many good memories of Remus, Tonks, Fred…” Harry lapsed into silence thinking about all the people he’d lost.

Draco watched him with curiosity. He’d suffered, certainly. He’d lost a few friends… his aunt… Severus… but he’d never thought much about the cost The War had had for someone like Harry.  For Draco, the war was about loss of self, loss of status, loss of pride. Harry still had all those things, but instead he’d lost friends, family, people who had loved him unconditionally. No one had done that for Draco, _perhaps Severus…_ he mused, _not even my mother._ He still felt a sinking feeling when he thought about his mother. He’d genuinely expected her to be the one person to stand by him… _another casualty of the war._

“Anyway.” Harry cleared his throat, “I didn’t see any need to find a new place. I thought about getting a place near Diagon Alley, but I decided to get it for Ron and Hermione instead.” He shrugged. “They’ll move out when they start thinking about kids, and they said they’d sell it to me if I still wanted it then.”

Draco nodded, _very sensible._ “Still seems like a strange place to find the destroyer of The Dark Lord.”

Harry smiled, “I like to keep everyone on their toes.” He poured the tea and gave Draco a mug. “I… I have to ask you for forgiveness.”

Draco looked up, “what?”

Harry sighed, “When I heard you talking to the Devouring members… I thought you were serious. I doubted you. I doubted us.”

Draco felt a flutter in his stomach, “Is there an us?”

Harry smiled, “I think I’d like there to be.”

Draco nodded eagerly, “I’d like that, too.” Harry’s face lit up and Draco grinned from ear to ear, “And you don’t need to ask forgiveness. I’m the one who’s led a life that would make you question that. I deserve to apologise every day for the rest of my life.”

Harry stood quickly and knelt beside Draco, “You’re a changed person, Draco Malfoy. We all deserve second chances, and you took yours and made every effort to make your life meaningful for those you’d harmed, even after what was done to you.”

Draco shook his head, “I haven’t done enough.” He was fighting back tears, “I can never do enough.”

Harry took his hands and squeezed them reassuringly, “you deserve happiness, Draco. No matter what you think.”

Draco looked away, _he can’t possibly understand. Everyone in the wizarding world owes him their life._

He heard Harry stand and open a cupboard. When Draco looked back a packet of biscuits had been dumped unceremoniously onto a small plate and placed between the two of them.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Harry said, “Us. Together.”

Draco nodded.

“But it also makes all kinds of sense. We both lost who were because of Voldemort,” Draco flinched at the name, clutching his Mark before he could stop himself, “We were both forced to do things we didn’t want to do. We were both manipulated into being what others expected us to be…”  
_He’s right._ Draco realised, _we both had our lives stolen… but mine was by choice._

“Just because we were on different sides, people assume you’re unredeemable, and that I’m perfection.” Harry took a bite of biscuit and suddenly realised he’d given Draco both tea and biscuits. “I’m sorry-” he swallowed hastily and made to grab the biscuits and tea from the table.

“Don’t worry about it, Harry. I’m not a random houseguest. You don’t have to entertain me.” Draco said with a smile.

“Will you,” Harry flushed a pale pink, “erm, will you need to feed soon?”

Draco’s smile faded, “Harry. We need to talk about that.” He drew himself up in the chair and looked at Harry resolutely. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I know you enjoy it, and I certainly enjoy it, but it’s too dangerous. We proved last week that we have no self-control and it nearly cost us both our lives.”

Harry was shaking his head, but Draco continued, “I’m not letting that happen again. I was reckless and I let lust get in the way.”

Harry put his hand on Draco’s arm, “It won’t happen again, but you need it to be from me. To be from a regular source. Because I don’t ever want you to feel unsafe around people again. You told me on that first day that you were happiest when you were feeding from your parents. That you could go out, interact with others, live a normal life. I want that for you.” Harry’s voice was insistent, “And sure, I’m not denying that I get off on it, we’ll just have to learn how to be careful.”

Draco scrutinised him, _he always puts others before himself. What a stupid git._ “There’s not much point in having a normal life if one of us gets killed for it.” He crossed his arms resolutely, “No. I won’t feed from you.”

Harry looked distressed. “What if we kept a schedule. Let’s give it a month. I’ll tell Ron and Hermione what we’re doing… I know!” he said, seeing the look on Draco’s face, “but they can keep us accountable and make sure we remember the blood-replenishing potion.” He reached out for Draco, who reluctantly gave him his hand. “One month. We’ll set a schedule, one feeding every fortnight. If we can make it a month without any cock-ups, we continue. If we break the schedule even once, we stop and find you other donors.”

Draco thought about this, _it’s a good plan, it gives us a chance to prove ourselves… and he’s right, Hermione won’t let us get away with forgetting the potion or feeding off the schedule… It could work…_ “Alright, Harry.” Draco gave in, “Let’s give it a go.”

“ _Accio Diary!”_ Harry said with a grin, and a few moments later a small red diary zoomed into the kitchen and landed open on the table. “When should we begin?”

Draco laughed, “So eager, Potter. You’re going to get yourself into trouble!” He moved his chair around next to Harry’s and looked over his shoulder, “Saturday next…I think.”

Harry looked at Draco in surprise, “That’s so far away!” he rubbed Draco’s arm fervently, “I’m restored to full health, we could start sooner…”

Draco shook his head. “I’m not taking any chances while you’re on the mend. Better I go a bit longer without than we try too soon.”

Harry sighed, “But we could-”

Draco shook his head, “Saturday next or deal’s off.”

Draco watched Harry weigh his options, but eventually he gave Draco a half-smile, “Fine. But you’re taking care of me here until then.” He let his smile widen and bit his lip playfully, “and I’m not waiting that long for _everything._ ”

Draco stood with a coy smile, _if he wants it, he’s going to have to come get it,_ and walked purposefully out of the Kitchen.

Upstairs he passed the stapled curtains and walked up another flight, deciding that he’d explore until Harry came after him. He wandered through a large set of open doors to find himself in a very old, very dark drawing room. He stared in wonder at a massive tapestry hung on the wall. _The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black_ and _Toujours Pur_ were embroidered along the top, leaving Draco with no doubt that this was yet another relic of the house that Harry had been unable to remove from the wall. Draco saw his Aunt Bella and his mother toward the bottom of the expansive family tree. Also next to their names was a small burn mark where his other aunt (about whom he knew very little), Andromeda, ought to have been.  Draco followed the small golden lines to his own name at the bottom-most level of the tapestry, _and the last…_

“Figures you’d find this right off.” Harry said from the doorway, Draco started and turned quickly.

“Very sneaky, Potter. But then, I was a bit preoccupied to find a shrine to my family on the wall of your house.”

Harry strode into the room casually and stood beside Draco, gently running his fingers along the Black family tree. Draco noticed that his fingers lingered on several of the burned spots that were undoubtedly witches and wizards deemed unworthy of their blood status. “We tried, but we couldn’t-”

“-couldn’t get it off the wall.” Draco finished for him with a smile. “Yes, obnoxious displays of familial pride must run in the family…” Draco said, his voice trailing off.

“It’s funny,” Harry said, putting his arm around Draco’s shoulder, “all this time I’ve been living here, and your name has been on the wall… I never really thought about it.”

Draco shrugged and leaned into Harry’s body. “Not much to think about, I’m just a decoration. Just like I was always a decoration in the Manor. Just another pureblood heir to be paraded about and fulfil my duties to the Malfoy name.”

Harry shook his head, “I think, if Sirius hadn’t left it to me, Grimmauld Place would be rightfully yours. You were his… first cousin, once removed.” Harry said softly. He gestured at the lower section of the tree, “as far as this shows, you’re the closest living relative. Apart from your mother, that is.”

Draco thought about what Harry was saying, _that’s a strange thought. I suppose my mother wouldn’t want to live here… no… it’s far more Bella’s style. Besides, they have the Manor. They might’ve considered letting me live here… until I inherited the Manor at least…_

“Do you get it?” Harry asked, kissing Draco’s temple gently, “You were always going to live here. It’s fate.”

Draco scoffed, he couldn’t help it, _he’s a sentimentalist._ He smiled at Harry, _I suppose it’s a side effect of being The Chosen One and having your childhood dictated by prophecies and ancient magic._ “The manor is much less depressing,” Draco said, giving him a squeeze, “and coming from me, that’s quite telling.”

Harry slid out of Draco’s grasp and looked at him appraisingly. “You know, you’re much fitter than the rest of your family…” he said with a smirk as he looked between Draco and the tapestry.

Draco gave him a cheeky smile and leant up against it, “You know… I can’t think of a better way to spend an afternoon than to thoroughly earn a burn mark on my name by shagging the muggle-loving destroyer of the Dark Lord right here.” He traced his hand over the tapestry above his head, knowing it’d be quite a pretty picture. 

Harry’s smirk grew to a grin and he took a step forward to catch Draco in a kiss. They had apologised to one another, to be sure, but this kiss, it was the real apology. Harry held Draco’s face in his hands as he pressed him back against the wall. Draco, in turn, pulled Harry against him, his hands cupping that perfect arse as he moaned into the kiss.

“Careful, Malfoy.” Potter whispered, breaking away from the kiss to catch his breath, “your relatives will be rolling over in their graves.”

Draco bit Harry’s lip, “They deserve it.”

They crashed together once more, this time Draco took control of the kiss, slipping his tongue past Harry’s lips and letting his hand fly up to the back of Harry’s head. He laced his fingers into the Chosen One’s messy hair and gave it a gentle tug.   

“Merlin, Draco! Yes” Harry gasped, letting his head fall back as Draco tightened his grip and, emboldened, recaptured Harry’s lips.

He deepened the kiss and felt Harry moan into his mouth. _He’s gorgeous._ Draco pulled back and brought his lips to Harry’s neck, sucking and kissing a line up his jawbone. _Merlin-_ Draco realised with surprise that he was getting hard. _I didn’t think that was even possible this long after feeding…_ He wasn’t complaining, of course, and took the opportunity to grind into Harry’s own erection.

 “I want you on your knees, Potter.” Draco said in a voice like dripping honey. “I want to see my cock sliding in and out of those gorgeous lips.” He heard Harry’s breath hitch and they met one another’s gaze.

“Oh, Draco. You’re so accustomed to getting what you want, but I think in _my house_ , and as I’m the one recently in hospital, it’s my turn.” Harry put two hands firmly on Draco’s shoulders and the blonde allowed himself to be pushed to the floor.

He smirked up at Harry as he made quick work of his zip, pulling his trousers and pants down so that his prick was just in front of Draco’s face. “Well well, Potter…” He wondered if he should stop there, “I see you’re finally learning to _give_ orders.” He didn’t give Harry time to react before Draco took him into his mouth. Draco knew what he was doing and he certainly didn’t mind showing off. He could take Harry’s entire length into his mouth, but why bother, it was so dull, doing the same parlour trick each time. Instead he worked the tip, applying light suction as he used the movement of the foreskin to add stimulation. Harry’s breathy moans told him everything he needed to know and he let Harry’s cock slide out of his mouth with a small pop before treating him to a long, slow, arduous lick along the shaft, finally taking Harry’s bollocks into his hand and squeezing them gently as he ran his flat tongue along the underside of his prick.  
“What do you think, Harry?” He asked with a grin, taking Harry in his hand as he looked up through his eyelashes, “think my family would still be proud of me?”

“They…” Harry gasped, leaning over Draco and bracing himself against the tapestried wall.

“I think they’d be…  Merlin, Draco!” He panted as Draco’s hand twisted, clearly incapable of rational thought.

Draco smiled to himself and returned to the head, increasing the suction ever so slightly as Harry began unconsciously thrusting into his mouth. _That’s not on,_ he thought, _he may give the occasional order, but let’s not forget who is in charge of this situation._

Draco placed his hands firmly on Harry’s hips and turned so that the startled Auror was now pressed with his back against the tapestry.

“What’re you-?” Harry didn’t finish asking the question, because at that moment Draco spun him like a top and pressed his hand against the small of his back, so that it was now his chest pressed into the names of the Black family.

Harry moaned wantonly as Draco used both hands to spread his cheeks apart, licking a long stripe up the cleft of his arse. _Oh, Potter, so predictable._ Draco smirked as Harry practically melted into the wall under his tongue.

Draco could hear that Harry was starting to come apart, _too bloody soon for that._

“Wait-” Harry’s voice sounded desperate as Draco leant back, wiping his mouth and getting to his feet.

“What’s the matter, Potter?” Draco said casually, hearing him whimper as Draco walked across the room to an old writing desk. “Afraid I’ve gotten you all worked up just to leave you in this state?” He spun round, a chair in hand, and surveyed the slumped auror. “Then again,” he said with a cheeky twitch of his lips, “that might be fun… I could sit right here,” he set down the chair in the middle of the room, facing the tapestry. Harry turned slowly, his cock jutting out from his body, “and watch you beg for it… So close. So close to coming undone, but not there yet, are we?” He spared a pointed glance for Harry’s aching prick, “No. You need a little push.” Draco smiled and sat back, he was hard too, _somehow,_ but that only made it more excruciating for Harry. “You’d like it to be the bite, wouldn’t you?” Draco asked, leaning forward in his chair, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes, Merlin, yes. Draco-”

“Stay against the wall, Potter.” Harry had tried to take a step toward him, but Draco wasn’t done playing with his food. _I may not feed today, but that doesn’t make me any less predator, him any less prey…_

Draco pulled down his own zip, reaching into his trousers to touch himself as Harry sunk to the floor in frustration. “You seem to think I’ll just eat your arse until you come again, is that it?” Draco sighed melodramatically, “Not today, Potter.” He smirked and watched as Harry’s hand flew to his prick as he watched Draco stroke himself. “Put your hand down.”

Potter, unsurprisingly, did as he was told. _A good little soldier._

“I’m going to fuck you. I’m going to fuck you against that wall.” Harry whimpered and Draco just barely suppressed a moan in response, “So you’d better start preparing yourself. Because I don’t think I’m leaving this chair until I feel it’s come time for me to _really_ make my ancestors proud.”

Harry didn’t need telling twice. He slid his pants and trousers off his ankles and pulled his wand from the pocket, conjuring a small pot of lubricant.

Draco watched, not bothering to breathe as Harry positioned himself at a bit of an angle, dipped a finger into the pot and reached behind himself, _Merlin, he’s actually going to stretch himself out for me._ Draco was surprised, _if I’m honest, I thought he’d whinge about it for a bit._ He watched Harry circle his own hole, getting it nice at wet before gently sliding a finger inside. Draco couldn’t decide what was more beautiful, the sight of Harry’s finger disappearing into his own arsehole or his face of pure ecstasy as he did it. Draco’s hand stilled, _I’ll come before I’ve even touched him, at this rate._ Harry’s mouth had gone slack and his eyes were shut tight, Draco had to resist the urge to get inside his head, _not without discussing it first._ He knew Potter’s mind must be pure perfection right now, but he sat back in his chair, watching the spectacle laid out before him, hardly believing his luck.

Harry stayed like that for a few moments before he began to work the finger in and out, sinking it deeper and deeper into his body. Finally, just when Draco was about to offer to take over, Harry’s eyes snapped open and he pulled his finger out, meeting Draco’s gaze unblinkingly as he reapplied the lubricant and added a second finger. Draco hadn’t seen his own face in years. He knew what it looked like, it should be roughly the same as it looked in his 7th year at Hogwarts, but he didn’t need a mirror to know what he looked like now. Harry’s face, watching him hungrily as he fingered himself, told him all he needed to know. Draco felt his fangs lengthening and he gasped at the pain.

With a moan, Harry’s other hand flew to his cock, but he wasn’t tossing off, _he’s trying not to come. Just the sight of my fangs and he’s on the edge of an orgasm._ Draco couldn’t help but smirk at that thought, _I’ll have to test that out at a less opportune time for him._

As Harry added another finger Draco couldn’t take it any more.

“Up.” He said, standing and bringing the chair next to Harry as he scrambled to his feet, “Lean against the chair if you’d like.” His tone was commanding, but as he stroked a hand down Harry’s back he leant in and whispered, “is this alright?”

Harry smiled broadly at him over his shoulder, “Only if you follow through on that promise to fuck me senseless.”

Draco smiled and slid his trousers and pants off, he briefly considered removing his shirt too, but it would take too long. He bent down just long enough to dip his fingers into the pot, slicking his cock with a moan as he pressed the tip against Harry’s entrance. “Let’s see what it takes to destroy the great Harry Potter.” Draco’s voice was like silk as he gently thrust forward.

Harry’s moans echoed in the empty house, He kept one hand on the chair, but the other flew to the wall to brace himself.

Draco was fighting to retain control. He was thrusting faster and faster, feeling the incredibly warm tightness around him, trying not to inhale Harry’s scent, yet at the same time wishing he could breathe nothing else for eternity. _All that sweat and blood and humanity…_ He moaned bent over Harry, changing the angle of his thrusts ever so slightly. _There!_  
“Draco!” was all the warning Harry could give as Draco’s cock hit his prostate and he was coming. Draco felt his arse contracting and he followed right behind, spilling into Harry with a gasp as he, too, braced himself against the wall for support.

Draco pulled out gently and used Harry’s wand, _glad to see we’re still compatible wand-mates,_ to clean them both up. He then took Harry in his arms and held him close for a moment, “Good?”

Harry’s sweat clung to him as he nodded, his tousled hair tickling Draco’s jaw, “Good.”

 

***

 

“Can I please have another look before you go to sleep?” Draco didn’t see why it was an unreasonable question. He had no doubt that the Healers at St. Mungo’s did a fine job of taking care of Harry’s wound, but he simply didn’t see the harm in taking a look to ensure it was still healing properly.

“You saw it yesterday in Hospital…” Harry said with a sigh through a mouthful of toothbrush, fiddling with the tie on his pyjama bottoms as he wandered into the bathroom to rinse his mouth. “Besides, I’ve had my shirt off most of the afternoon,” Harry called over the running tap, “you could’ve had a look any time.”

“Well I didn’t want a look then; I want one now.” Draco said with more than a hint of exasperation. “Please. Before I go.”

Harry’s head popped round the corner suddenly, “Go?”

Draco looked at him, unsure of his meaning, “Yes… go.”

“Where are you going?” He stepped out of the bathroom, leaning casually against the doorframe.

“Well,” Draco adopted a patronising tone, “I thought I’d go back to the Manor. I live there, you see.”

“You aren’t going to sleep here?” Harry ignored Draco’s teasing and took his hand.

“I… Do you want me to?”

“Of course I bloody want you to, you git!” Harry said with a gentle punch to Draco’s shoulder. “I thought you said you were going to nurse me back to health!”

“I wasn’t aware I was to be a live-in nurse.” Draco mumbled, earning himself another punch.

“Why? Did you have something better to do? Thought you’d mope for a bit? Need some space so you could read a few dozen more books and stare at your great big fireplace?”

Draco couldn’t help but smile at that, _he’s got a fair point_. “Alright, but you’ll tell me if I’ve outstayed my welcome?”

Harry smiled back and kissed Draco lightly on the forehead, “It’s as much your house as it is mine.” He pulled back and looked thoughtfully at Draco, “More, even.” He added as he pressed his lips to Draco’s.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay on that one, It'll probably be another week until the last chapter (and there will almost certainly be an epilogue, in case you're wondering).


	10. Limits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco takes a chance, Harry proves a point.

Draco woke with a start as his elbow slipped off the desk. He wiped his mouth groggily and shifted the stack of books he’d been using as a pillow. _What time is it?_ He wondered, gathering up his parchment, glad, at least, that this time he’d managed to avoid knocking over his inkwell while he slept.

He stood stiffly and slowly made his way to the window to pull back the curtains. _Almost dawn_ , he noted, wondering when he’d actually fallen asleep. Just as he was considering going upstairs to get a few more hours’ rest, he froze. A high-pitched noise met his ears and he groaned unhappily at the sound. Downstairs he heard the sound of footsteps hurrying to take the kettle off the stove. _Why is he up this early?_

When Draco walked into the kitchen Harry was already sat at the long table, eating sausage and toast as he waited for his tea to brew.

“Why are you awake?” they both asked at the same time.

Draco smiled, giving Harry a quick kiss before joining him at the table. “I fell asleep revising again last night.”

“I noticed.”

Draco sighed, “This exam is going to be the death of me.”

“It’s a bit late.” Harry said with a smile, “Death didn’t do its research on that one.”

Draco rolled his eyes, “Yes, yes. By all means, mock Draco because he’s not strictly _alive_ …”

“He has other nice qualities.” Harry said, taking another bite.

“Oh?” Draco flashed him his most charming smile, “Such as?”  
“Narcissist.” Harry said with a mouthful of toast.

“I’d agree. My self-confidence is certainly a nice quality.” Draco flicked his wand to summon the sugar Harry’d forgotten on the counter.

“Maybe I didn’t want sugar today.”

“You always want sugar.” Draco said, leaning over to kiss him on his cheek. “I believe you were listing my best qualities.”

“You are incorrigible!” Harry said with a laugh, brushing bits of toast off the corners of his mouth.

Draco gave him a mock frown, “I’m not sure you’re understanding this game…”

“So,” Harry had clearly decided it was time to change the subject, “How’d your revising go last night?”

Draco nodded, encouraged, “Yeah, really well, I think.” He thought back to the hours spent pouring over books and papers last night, “I think I finally got over that hurdle on the tergeus charm. You were right,” He gave harry a begrudging smile, “It was all in my head. I tried it about a hundred times last night. Worked on every single substance apart from blood.”

“Where did you get blood in the middle of the night?” Harry asked with a laugh, but Draco could tell from his voice that he was only half-joking.

“Don’t worry. It was dragon’s blood. If I’d been feeling peckish you’d have been the first to know.” Draco leant back and surveyed Harry carefully.

“I told you it was all in your head.” Harry said with a satisfied grin, stuffing the last piece of sausage into his mouth and sending his dishes flying to the sink.

“And I already said you were right,” Draco rolled his eyes, “but, like I said, I think I finally got a handle on it. Though, if you don’t mind… I’d like to try it with the real thing.”

Harry nodded, completely unconcerned, and drew a short line on the back of his hand with his wand tip. The ruby liquid slowly beaded on the surface and Draco stood quickly, “Why don’t you ever wait until I’m actually ready when I ask you things?”

“Why aren’t you ever actually ready when you ask for things?” Harry said with an exasperated sip of tea.

Draco quickly summoned a small phial and let Harry’s cut bleed into it until it was filled. “Thank you.” He said, giving the cut a small kiss and running his tongue along it to speed up the healing process.

“I hope you won’t be doing that to your patients.” Harry smiled.

“That’s why I have you.” Draco slipped the phial into his pocket, licking his lips.

 

 It had been a good few months. They’d lived here, at Grimmauld Place, nearly full-time. They had rows about every other week, but Hermione said (Draco still couldn’t believe he was using Hermione Granger, of all people, as a confidant) that was to be expected when two people with “strong personalities” and “an infantile ability to deal with emotional hurdles” started living together.

Draco, for his part, had never been happier. It was mostly because of Harry’s incessant nagging that he finally agreed to take the H.A.T.s (Healer’s Acceptance Tests). Harry had asked him about it nearly every day since he’d returned home from St. Mungo’s. Finally, after taking Harry in for a nasty-looking bite he got on a job and had _apparently_ planned to ignore, he agreed that it was in _both_ their best interests that he become a Healer.

_“If I’m going to be living with the most reckless Auror in the Ministry, I might as well have the formal qualifications to keep him alive.”_

Of course, none of it would be possible if they hadn’t been able to make their feeding schedule work in actual practice. The first month was brutal and there were a few times Draco had come too close to giving in and biting Harry when he’d beg for it. They managed, though. That first month crawled by, and after that it had gotten easier. There were certainly times when it was still a struggle, but they’d agreed that their relationship had to be about more than blood, so now the bite was more of a special occasion that they didn’t mind waiting for, since the waiting made it that much better.

Since the death of Greyback and the dismantling of The Devouring, the Minister had approved an increase in funds toward the Auror department. Weasley had gotten a sizable bonus, making him much friendlier to Draco, who still wouldn’t confirm that he’d been the one to convince the Minister to free up the funds. Harry, of course, took that to mean that Draco was happy to spend all of their free time with Granger and Weasley. He didn’t mind, though. _Not much anyway_. It was strange to have friends again, _if you could call them that._ Almost every weekend the four of them would go out for drinks, sometimes in Diagon Alley, occasionally in Knockturn and occasionally, to Draco’s immense discomfort, to a muggle pub.

All in all, things were going well. And Draco was waiting for the penny to drop.

 

 

“Fancy flying a bit before I have to go in?” Harry asked, sending his now-empty plate and mug to the sink.

Draco shook his head, “Sorry, I really should keep working. I’ve only got three days left.”

“Draco, you realise this exam is just to get _into_ the Healer Programme. They’ll be expecting you to be at an introductory level.”

“Typical Gryffindor.” Draco muttered, “Bare minimum. As it happens, I want them to be impressed with my results.” Draco stood and pushed in his chair.

“Fine. Have it your way. Kill yourself revising 24/7 for an entry exam.”

Draco smirked and gave Harry a quick kiss, “I will.”

Harry made a little ‘hrumph’ sound, but he, too, made to leave the kitchen. 

“Do you mind if I use it on you?” Draco said, stopping in the doorway. He’d been going back and forth about asking Harry, but he finally decided it was silly to be so worried. _Worst he can say is no._

Harry’s expression was clearly confused. “Use what?”

“The tergeus charm.” Draco watched the comprehension spread across Harry’s face.

“You want me to play dead?” Harry’s voice was measured and Draco saw him sneak a glance at the calendar on their wall. _That’s perfectly fair. He’s right to wonder if I’ll be able to do it without feeding._

“To put it crudely. I’d like to practice on a living body. Cleaning the blood off a wound would be slightly more difficult. I’m not sure if they’ll be using live subjects in our practical, but if I’m able to do it on you, my sole donor, I’ll be fine on anyone else.”

Draco waited patiently while Harry thought it over. “Alright.” Harry said. “Where should we be? In the bath?”

“I was picturing the garden.” Draco said, absentmindedly.

“Draco!” Harry whinged, shaking his head vigorously. “It’s so cold out. I’m absolutely not lying in the garden with my shirt off, covered in blood at half seven in the morning.”

“Of course,” Draco nodded, “you’re right, of course. The bath will do just fine.”

“Well, let’s get on with it. I need to be in by 10.” Harry sighed and began unbuttoning his shirt. “Will the phial be enough, or do you need me to be bleeding?”

Draco swallowed hard, “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you want to impress them let’s do it right.” Harry grabbed his wand from the table and gestured for Draco to lead the way.

 

Upstairs, Harry lay in the large bathtub. They’d agreed he ought to keep his pants on, as it seemed unlikely the examiners would bring in nude subjects for the practical and Draco agreed with Harry’s assertion that he didn’t want any more distractions than necessary.

“If you end up feeding it’s okay.” Harry said softly, raising his wand to his chest. “It’s been more than a week; we can adjust the rota.”

Draco shook his head, his face set and determined. “I won’t. This isn’t just about us, it’s about whether or not I can be a Healer now. I don’t want to admit that it may not be possible, but I can’t subject patients to my care if I’m not absolutely certain I can control myself.”

Harry nodded in response and Draco watched with anticipation as he softly dragged his wand tip across his chest. _Sectumsempra._ Draco’s mind flashed back to that day, but he pushed the memory aside, _focus, Draco._

A thin line of blood welled on Harry’s chest, and Draco was overcome with the scent of Harry’s fresh blood. _Focus._ Normally he’d be trying to stop the bleeding as soon as possible, but Draco knew this would only work if Harry had a substantial amount of blood on him. _This isn’t a good idea, Draco._ A small voice inside his head appeared, _you’re pushing the limits of what he’s willing to do for you. You’re asking him to bleed himself out so you can practice a cleaning charm… that’s really not on._ Draco could feel his hand shaking as he clutched his wand, _a bit more._ He thought, ignoring the voice as he watched the blood begin to spill off the sides of Harry’s chest into the bathtub beneath him. _Just a bit more._

Harry’s eyes were closed and Draco listened carefully to his heartbeat from across the room. _Strong, steady. He’s not in any danger._ All of his instincts, of course, disagreed with this professional assessment. His remaining human instinct saw his lover covered in blood and was screaming for him to go to him, to save him. His other, stronger instinct saw the blood going to waste down the plughole and was screaming at him to stop the bleeding in different way. _With your mouth._  
Finally, he lifted his wand, trying not to let the tremor in his hands affect his spellwork, “ _Tergeo!”_

He watched with rapt concentration as the blood pooling on and around Harry’s chest began to siphon off into the tip of his wand. The blood was practically gone when the spell abruptly stopped working. Draco tried not to panic as Harry’s wound kept bleeding and the blood surrounding it began to pool once more.

“ _Tergeo_!” he said with a bit more force. This time it worked, the remaining blood was siphoned off. “ _Episkey_!” the wound on Harry’s chest knit itself back together without complication. It had been a minor wound, despite the amount of blood lost. Draco quickly summoned a Blood-Replenishing Potion from their bedside table. He sank to his knees beside Harry, “How do you feel?” stroking Harry’s hair gently.

Harry budged up a bit in the bath, “not bad.” He opened his eyes and Draco didn’t miss the surprise on his face as he saw his clean, healed torso. “Not bad at all.” He touched his chest gingerly, “but this is brilliant, Draco!” He looked up with a smile, sitting up all the way and downing the bottle of potion that Draco handed him.

“Thank you so much, love.” His lips met Harry’s in a deep kiss, “Thank you for trusting me.”  
“Of course I trust you, Draco.” Harry murmured, running his fingers down Draco’s spine.

 “I know you try. But it’s okay if you can’t always trust me.”

Harry stood shakily and accepted Draco’s help climbing out of the bath. “I trust you completely. Sometimes I don’t know how your biology will react.”

Draco frowned, “It doesn’t work that way, Harry. You can’t separate me from my biology…”

“You’re not your cravings though, your predatory instincts. You only have those because of what was done to you, they’re not a facet of your personality.” Harry’s voice was insistent, _who’s he trying to convince?_

Draco shook his head, “I see what you’re saying, but it’s not that simple.”

Since the scene at the Ministry he was no longer able to hide his condition. _Death Eater or Blood Sucker? The Malfoy Family Resurfaces_ had been the next morning’s Prophet headline. One of the Aurors had shown it to him with a grin before he was whisked off to Azkaban. It was no surprise that there was public interest in his case. Draco knew the Prophet had been starved for drama now that most of The Dark Lord’s followers had been either acquitted or imprisoned. There was now a certain amount of protection around Harry Potter as the Prophet had to refrain from reporting on ongoing Auror activities. Draco was sure the news that he’d re-emerged, a vampire, and at the Ministry no less, had brought tears of joy to the editors of the Prophet.

“I understand why you want to separate them, but it’s pointless. Even if they were separate once, they aren’t now. They can’t be. I have to treat myself as a whole being, otherwise I’ll return to resenting it. To hating myself.” Draco’s voice trembled, but his face was stoic.

Harry looked at him with an unreadable expression. “I… I think I understand…But I also think that sort of thinking is what held you back from being a Healer a long time ago…”

Draco shook his head, but he took Harry’s arm and led him into the bedroom. “Do you feel alright?”

Harry nodded, “Good as new. It wasn’t that much; it’s just been a while since I’ve bled like that without wanting it.”

Draco watched the smirk spread across Harry’s face. _Cheeky bastard._ “You’re asking for it, Potter.”

“Of course I am.” Harry said with a nudge at Draco’s ribs. He lowered his voice and ran his hand slowly up Draco’s chest, “begging for it, in fact.”

Draco let a small chuckle escape from his lips, “Always trouble, Potter.” He gave Harry’s ear a quick nibble, “But you don’t have time. You need to get dressed if you’re going to get to the ministry in time for your meeting with Slavitt.”

Harry’s eyes widened, “Fuck! I completely forgot.”

Draco nodded, “I know.” He took a few steps back and pulled a clean set of robes from the wardrobe. “You always forget.” When he turned around Harry was already wearing a pair of faded jeans and was just pulling an old T-shirt over his head. Harry caught him staring and gave him a look. “I’m not saying anything” Draco insisted, raising his hands in a peaceful gesture. “You know how I feel about your clothing.”

Harry gave him a defiant grin, “I do. And _you_ know there’s nothing you can do to stop me.” He said, threading a belt through the jeans.

“Oh yes. I’m well aware.”

Harry smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, “I’ve got to hurry.” He took the robes out of Draco’s outstretched hands and gave him another peck, “Good thing I woke up early!”

Draco watched him disappear down the stairs and heard the front door open and close with a bang.

_Right. Revision time._

Draco spent the next four hours pouring over his books, memorising spells to cure morning sickness and trying to remember the best charms to aid in dispelling confusion from a Cerebrumous Spattergroit-infected patient. He finally pushed his chair back from the desk, stretched his arms over his head and sighed deeply. _Three days._ Draco knew Harry was right. He’d have no problems on his H.A.T.s, but he didn’t just need to do well, Draco needed to do so well that no one could possibly dispute his fitness to practice. He needed his marks to reassure the upper echelons of the Trainee Healers’ Programme that he was a risk worth taking. _An enormous risk._

Draco knew he’d have been hard-pressed to get into the programme after his part in the war as a human, but now, with his added… affliction, he was almost certainly ineligible. Hermione had reminded him on many occasions of all the traditionally wizard-held positions now occupied by Magical Creatures. On those occasions, Draco always reminded her that those individuals didn’t usually bear the literal brand of support for a brutal Dark Wizard, nor had _any_ vampires ever been accepted into the Trainee Healers’ Programme. She’d tried to suggest that that was only due to no vampire ever applying, but Draco usually was out the door at that point. _Even if it had been done, even if it had been done a dozen times, my case is different. More complex._

Draco knew he had earned most, if not all, of the troubles he now found himself facing, but he couldn’t help but feel that it was still unfair. _I will never amount to anything now. I can’t_ , he’d thought bitterly. Almost two months ago he’d confided these fears to Harry, and that’s when Harry’d begun the relentless campaign to get Draco to take the H.A.T.s. “ _You owe it to yourself, Draco.”_ Harry’d argued, _“You used to be so ambitious, you used to be so sure of yourself. Voldemort took that from you, too.”_ Draco knew he was right, but he didn’t like the idea of admitting it. _The Dark Lord took everything from me… It’s time for me to take it back._

 

***

 

Thursday morning came with the soft patter of rain on their window. Draco’s head was cradled by his sleeping lover’s arm. _Crush lionfish spines with pestle._ Harry’s breathing was soft and even and Draco couldn’t imagine anything more beautiful. _Set aside. Add 2 measures of armadillo bile to the cauldron._ Downstairs a soft rustling told Draco that Kreacher had returned for the night. He sometimes liked to return to his family’s home, something that Harry encouraged, as long as he remained at Hogwarts the majority of the time. _Add half the crushed lionfish spines to the cauldron. Add 6 dried billywig stings to the remaining lionfish spines in the mortar. Grind until powdered._ In the corner of the still-dark room, Tiw and Saramin, Harry’s Grey Owl, slept on their perches. They spent most of the night hunting, and Draco had watched them soar in from an open window upstairs about an hour previous. _Heat on low temperature for 46 seconds, remove heat and add billywig sting/lionfish spine powdered mixture to cauldron._ It was warm in Grimmauld Place, that was one thing that Draco found he couldn’t quite get used to. The Manor had always been a bit cold, undoubtedly a side effect of a family of Slytherins who were used to the slightly lower dungeon temperatures. Here, though, Draco was always warm. Cosy. _Stir anti-clockwise 140 rotations._ Draco let his eyes fall on Harry once more. The Chosen One’s fringe brushed his eyelashes, but he was deep in sleep, his expression unusually serene. _Add whole unicorn horn, unpolished._ Draco knew that Harry often had nightmares and he smiled, turning back to stare at the rain-spattered window, grateful that tonight Harry had slept restfully. _Simmer for 4 days, adding a half-measure of doxy eggs each morning at dawn until potion is black._

“Did you sleep at all?” Harry’s groggy voice beside him shook him out of his thoughts.

“Did I wake you?” Draco whispered as Harry pulled his undoubtedly numb arm from beneath Draco’s head.

“Doesn’t matter.” Harry said sleepily. Draco kissed him lightly on the cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

“What were you thinking about?” Harry asked with a smile.

“The antidote to veritaserum.”

Harry’s brow furrowed. “We’re lying in bed together and you’re thinking about antidotes? I’ll have to fight all the other suitors off. Stand back, boys, he’s mine…”

“Sorry, love.” Draco gave him another quick kiss and threw off the duvet.

Harry groaned unhappily and scrambled to cover himself. _The Gryffindor dormitories must’ve been sweltering…_ Draco mused, “Do you want breakfast?”

Harry sat up at that, “Are you offering to make me breakfast?”

“Kreacher’s in.” Draco said with a wry smile.

Harry flopped back onto the pillows. “You’ve obviously never had something Kreacher prepared… It’s more than enough reason to stay in bed.”

Draco chortled and slipped on his dressing gown. _Three hours._ Draco had already decided what he’d wear, he’d packed several rolls of parchment and extra quills in a briefcase. He’d even, in what was obviously a fit of madness, set aside the proper measure of floo powder he’d use to get to the Ministry. _There’s nothing left for me to do._

He was still stood in front of the wardrobe when he felt Harry’s hands on his shoulders. “You’ll be brilliant. You always are.”

 

***

 

Draco stepped out of the fireplace in St. Mungo’s reception and showed the Welcome Witch at the INQUIRIES desk his letter confirming his H.A.T.s.

She nodded, pointing out a staircase opposite the large double doors, “Right that way, dear. Good luck.”

Draco managed a polite smile, which faded the minute he turned to face the stairway, and his impending doom. _Maybe I should wait until next year…_ he thought wildly as his feet carried his uncertain body down the stairs to the basement level.

A small desk sat in the centre of the sterile hallway. A middle aged wizard with a dark goatee waved him over irritably. “Are you in today’s H.A.T. cohort?”

Draco nodded, finding that his voice had suddenly left him.

“Name?”

“Malfoy, Draco.” He managed to choke out.

The wizard’s finger on the roster hesitated for a split second, but he said nothing as he searched for Draco’s name on the list. “Yes, if you’ll go down the corridor, you’ll find the examination room on your left.”

“Thank you.” Draco said, he could hear his voice shaking and the wizard looked up with a look something like pity.

“Try to breathe. You have more time than you’ll need.” He offered.

_I suppose it’s the thought that counts._ Draco thought darkly as he considered the wizard’s word choice. He walked briskly down the corridor to the room marked EXAMINATIONS. A long, single row of exam desks sat in the centre of the room, facing a solitary oak table near the door where Draco stood. Atop the table sat a large hourglass, not unlike the one Professor Marchbanks had used during their History of Magic O.W.L. back in school. Draco was the first one there, having given himself quite a cushion before the 11 o’clock start.

Draco decided on the farthest desk from the door, figuring he’d be least likely to be approached by others. He got himself sorted in the uncomfortable seat and slipped into a semi-trance state, recalling all of the revising he’d done in the last week.

 

Several others filed into the room, but he made no move to talk to them or even acknowledge their presence. _At best they’ll want to make pointless conversation, at worst they’ll recognise me and feel the need to make a scene._ The seats slowly filled and by 11 all but the seat next to Draco had been occupied. _Perfect._

The examiner swept into the room, she was a tall witch with a gaunt face and terribly out-of-date glasses. “You will have two hours to finish the written portion of your examination.” She turned over the large hourglass and sat behind the head table. Watching them with unblinking eyes.

 

 

 

Draco finished writing and set down his quill. He looked up to find less than half of the beads had fallen. _Under an hour._ He looked up at the witch sat behind the desk and she gave him a small nod, indicating that he should bring up his paper if he had finished. She turned it over on her desk as he handed it to her and waved dismissively at the door. Draco gathered his belongings and walked briskly on his dragon-hide boots to the door. Outside, a small, balding wizard with dark eyes and several tattoos on the back of his head and neck met Draco in the corridor.

“Finished already?” He asked with an accent that Draco couldn’t place. Draco nodded and the man smiled. “Well let’s make a start.”

He led Draco down the corridor to another room, this one had a large trolley in the middle of it, and a young, and quite attractive, girl was sitting on top of it, casually examining her fingernails.

“You’ll be asked to perform a few basic healing spells, some will be theoretical, and others will be on our volunteer subject. Then you’ll need to prepare a potion of your choice.” He directed Draco’s attention to a corner of the room which held a cauldron and a cabinet full of potions ingredients. “Bear in mind, the more difficult the potion, the more it will earn you in marks, but any mistakes will lose marks… so best to stick with what you know.” Draco nodded, swallowing hard, “You will be stopped after one hour, so we will assess only your progress to such a point. If the potion requires longer to brew, that will not count against you, but you will be expected to describe the remaining steps.”

Draco’s mind was racing; _what potion should I choose?_ He knew that was an area where he could impress, but he had to be certain that he didn’t overextend himself.

“We will begin with a description of the patient you’ll be seeing, I will ask you what course of treatment you recommend, and if I agree, I will ask you to demonstrate the necessary spell.”

 

The practical examination finished in just under two hours. For his spells, Draco had been asked to mend a broken bone, restore eyesight that had been lost in a blind-eye jinx, and (as he’d expected) siphon blood and dirt out of an open wound. He felt he did well on each of them, although the examiner stepped in after Draco had managed to restore her sight, but only in shades of yellow. The potions section had been brilliant. Draco knew he had a full hour, and he wanted to ensure that the examiner would be impressed. After asking for an additional cauldron, he’d set about brewing both a blood-replenishing potion (simple and common, but disastrous if brewed incorrectly) and the antidote to veritaserum (a very tricky potion to get right and certainly beyond N.E.W.T. level). The examiner had hovered over him, taking detailed notes as he whisked back and forth between the two cauldrons, adding ingredients and adjusting the heat without breaking a sweat. _It was perfect._ Both required more time than he had, but the examiner placed a small amount of each into marked phials and set them aside before vanishing the remainder of the cauldrons’ contents. He’d given Draco a warm smile and offered Draco his hand as he held the door for him, “You can rest easy, Mister Malfoy,” He said, giving Draco’s hand a squeeze. “You did well.”

Draco nodded at him in thanks and followed the corridor back to the stairs, unable to supress a grin as he walked.

 

***

 

Harry gasped as Draco threw him down on the bed. “So it went well?”

Draco smiled, “I was amazing, Harry!” He climbed on top of the still-clothed auror, only just home from the Ministry, and sat back on his heels. “And your help the other morning was _greatly_ appreciated.”

Harry grinned, “Oh, really?”

“Absolutely.” Draco said, lowering himself down over Harry, who leaned up for a kiss.

“I knew you’d be brilliant.” Harry gasped, deepening the kiss, “You’re always brilliant.”

Draco slipped his tongue between Harry’s lips, and he felt the other man moan softly into his mouth. “Only because you make me brilliant”, he whispered. He sat back once more to give Harry time to pull his shirt off over his head. “Merlin, Harry…” Draco gasped, rocking against Harry’s cock, already semi-hard from their snogging. “You’re beautiful.”

Harry blushed and Draco traced his hand through the light dusting of dark hair on his lover’s chest.

“You know, every now and then I wonder what my parents would think.” Draco said absentmindedly, tweaking one of Harry’s nipples hard enough to elicit a gasp. “I wonder what my mother would say if she caught us in bed together…” He brought his tongue down to flick against Harry’s other nipple, “or my father… I imagine he’d try to curse you…” Draco bit down gently, sucking softly while working his tongue against the hot pink skin before he sat back again, looking with satisfaction at Harry’s dishevelled expression.

“What would you do?” Harry breathed, slumping back on the bed with his eyes closed.

“That’s a fair question…” Draco nodded, distractedly, resuming his rocking as he palmed Harry’s fully erect prick through his trousers, “I’d curse him first.”

Harry’s eyes opened, but he said nothing,

“I’d do anything to protect you, Harry.” He said, now working the zip so he could fell Harry in his hand. 

Harry gasped once more, this time arching up into Draco’s hand.

“Do you know what day it is, Potter?” Draco asked softly, casually working Harry’s cock in his hand.

“It’s the 14th.” Harry said breathlessly.

“It’s our night.” Draco said seductively, his mind was spinning with desire.

“I know.” Harry’s voice was barely over a whisper.

“How do you want it?” Draco asked. His fangs lengthened as he spoke and he made sure Harry could see them, he knew how much they turned him on.

“Merlin… I-” Harry looked uncertain, flustered and thoroughly wrecked. Harry sat up suddenly, grasping Draco’s shirt collar and puling him closer, “I want to take you.”

Draco’s eyes widened. They had certainly done it before, but never on their night. Draco usually found himself taking control, _taking Harry,_ on the nights when he fed. _This could be good_. Draco thought, he loved it when Harry topped… to be fair, he loved it every way they’d tried. “I want that, too.” He whispered, gently biting his lower lip with one of his fangs.

Harry smiled and pulled his trousers and pants off, tossing them onto the floor beside his shirt. Harry knew he couldn’t outmatch Draco physically, but Draco decided might be willing to play along tonight. Harry put his hands on Draco’s shoulder and pushed him down onto his back. “You won’t regret it, Malfoy.”

_He never calls me Malfoy._ Draco smiled, _he’s trying to do what I do when I dominate him, tease him, make him think of our school-days rivalry._

Harry smirked down at him, as he straddled Draco and began unbuttoning his shirt slowly, teasing. “You’re used to getting your way when you’re about to feed.” He said casually, his fingers stilling as he looked at Draco. _Why’s he stopped?_ Draco looked at him with concern, but Harry just continued slowly unbuttoning as if he’d never paused. “I think this time we’ll go at my pace. After all-” He stopped again. This time with more than half of Draco’s shirt unbuttoned. “I want the bite almost as much as you… maybe more…” He sat there, absentmindedly fiddling with Draco’s buttons, but not making any move to continue undressing him.

“What are you-?” Draco was cut off as Harry put a finger to his lips.

“See, you told me the other day that I can’t separate you from your nature. From what you are…” Harry unfastened one more button before stopping once more, this time to stroke his own cock languidly. “I’m going to prove you wrong.”

Draco watched Harry’s hand on his prick hungrily, he felt himself longing to touch it, to take it in his mouth, but he suspected that wouldn’t be allowed.

“I’m going to make you want it.” Harry said softly.

“I already want it”, Draco scoffed, smirking at him.

Harry gave him an amused look, “you think you want it.” He nodded, “but I suspect you don’t really know what that means…”

Draco’s smile faltered. _This might not be a good idea…_

“You think you are one entity, _The Vampire Draco Malfoy,_ but I think you’re two; The Vampire and Draco Malfoy.” He unfastened another button, leaving only one before Draco’s whole chest would be exposed. “If you’re right, then what I’m doing is very dangerous… tempting a vampire who can’t control his need for my blood…” He returned to stroking his cock lazily. “But if I’m right, you’ll be able to control yourself. Draco will keep the vampire at bay, Draco won’t let him hurt me until I ask him to.”

_This is absolutely a bad idea._ Draco thought, biting his lip anxiously, “Harry- I don’t think-”

“If you want to call it off, we can. You can bite me and we’ll fuck and it’ll be just like it was two weeks ago.” Draco noted he didn’t sound thrilled by the prospect. “Or we could try something new, something risky... I take full responsibility for whatever happens.” He smiled, “luckily for me, I have a soon-to-be Trainee Healer right here, on call.”

Draco shook his head, “I really don’t know, Harry… I know you’re trying to prove a point, but I don’t want to hurt you.”

Harry leant in for a chaste kiss (well, as chaste as it could be when he was straddling Draco with one hand on his own cock), “I know you. I trust you. You won’t hurt me. You can control it. If it gets too close you could safeword.”

“If it gets too close I could kill you…” Draco muttered.

“You won’t.” Harry leant back, “Trust me, Draco.”

Draco’s brow knit together and he sighed, “I do. I trust you with my life… I just don’t know if I trust you with yours…”

Harry unbuttoned the final button and traced his finger down Draco’s bare chest. “I have my wand. I’ll be fine.” He nodded at the small table beside their bed and finally, Draco nodded.

Harry grinned and worked Draco’s shirt off the rest of the way. Then, as Draco should’ve suspected, he stopped again, this time getting off Draco entirely and lying beside him, wanking himself slowly and nonchalantly. Draco watched him for a moment and then began to fumble with his own zip.

“Nope.” Draco’s hands froze at the sound of Harry’s voice, stern, but he’d affected a bored tone.

“I can’t-?” Draco didn’t finish the question, as Harry shushed him quietly. With a heavy sigh, Draco let his arms fall back to his sides, _not like I can even get hard anyway… It’s been too long since I fed…_ His fangs were aching and he ran his tongue over them roughly, trying to ease some of the pain.

Harry was still just lying beside him and Draco was starting to wonder if he had a plan or if he was just trying to frustrate Draco until he took control. Just as he was considering asking, Harry took one of Draco’s hands and placed it gently on his cock. Draco smirked and began to stroke, listening to Harry’s heartbeat quicken slightly, _he won’t be able to outlast me._ Draco thought, realising that they would never not be in competition with one another. He stroked Harry’s prick slowly, but firmly. He let his hand twist at the tip and heard a small gasp escape Harry’s lips. _He’ll come undone. He’ll be begging for the bite soon._ Draco suddenly wondered if this was all a part of his plan, if he knew that Draco wanted him to beg, that it made it harder for him to resist seeing Harry as prey. _He’s not that cunning… after all, he’s a bloody Gryffindor. Just taking what he wants._

Harry had begun to gently buck up into Draco’s hand and Draco let go for a moment to lick his palm. Harry took in a sharp inhale and Draco smiled, his slick hand sliding back and forth with Harry’s foreskin.

It was only a few minutes before Harry put his hand on Draco’s wrist, stopping him, _“_ I’m already close. But I’m not going to come. Not yet. Not until I’m inside you.”

Draco felt a small shudder threaten to run through his body at the words and he tried to lean into Harry, but Harry held him in place.

Harry turned his head so that he was right beside Draco’s ear, “I want to open you up, Draco.” He breathed, “I can’t wait to slide my fingers inside you.”

His words ghosted across Draco’s skin and this time he couldn’t suppress the shiver across his skin.

“Would you like that, Draco?” Harry asked, his voice dripping from his lips like wine, “Do you want me inside you?”  
Draco could hardly find the strength to speak, “Yes... Merlin, yes, Potter.”

Harry smirked and put his index finger in front of Draco’s lips. “No blood, Draco. You have to wait for that.” Draco nodded eagerly and took Harry’s offered finger into his mouth. He could taste the sweat, the precome from Harry’s own prick, and, most importantly, the blood beneath the surface of his skin. It was just an echo of Harry’s true taste, but he savoured it, sucking greedily on the finger as Harry began working slowly on Draco’s zip with his other hand.

“I think you want it more than I do, Draco.” He said teasingly, letting curling his finger in Draco’s mouth. Draco slipped his tongue against the digit, moaning as Harry’s finger curled and uncurled like Draco knew it would be doing shortly inside his own body.

“You can hear my heartbeat?” He asked, watching Draco’s eyes as they followed his every movement. “You can hear how much I want it. How much I want you.”

Draco nodded, listening to Harry’s heart pumping the blood through his body, tasting it under his skin.

“Your fangs probably ache,” he said softly, working Draco’s trousers off one-handed. “Do they?” His hand stopped moving and Harry gently touched his fingertip to one of the fangs in Draco’s mouth.

Draco shuddered with the effort not to prick Harry’s finger, _it’s so close, I could just taste him…_

“Shhh, careful, Draco,” Potter whispered, running the finger that was still inside Draco’s mouth along the sharp edge of his fangs, “I’m not ready to bleed for you yet.”

Draco moaned in desperation, wishing Harry would just get it over with, _he’s got me like jelly, I can barely think, I want it so badly…_ Draco couldn’t keep his eyes open, as they fluttered closed he caught a glimpse of Harry’s face.

Harry looked perfectly calm. At this point in the night, _especially on our night,_ Harry usually looked like a wreck. He was almost always the one begging for it, and Draco had gotten used to this being a part of their foreplay, _how dishevelled and unwound can I make Harry Potter._ But, right now, Harry looked like he was organising a Ministry raid, not like he had Draco coming apart under his skilful fingers. _He’ll never cease to surprise me._

“Well done.” Harry praised him softly as he pulled Draco’s pants off. “You’re doing great. And now, I think… I’m ready to stretch you out.”

Draco moaned around his finger as Harry pulled it out of his mouth with a filthy popping sound. Draco lay back as Harry spread his legs apart, “hold them.” He instructed, and Draco did as he was told, grabbing his knees to spread his legs as wide as he could.

“Merlin’s beard, Draco.” Harry muttered, “This is the sexiest thing on earth.” He leant down to lick a quick swipe up Draco’s arse, “and it’s all mine.” Without any hesitation, Harry reached for his wand on the bedside table, tapping it gently on Draco’s hole and Draco gasped at the feeling of slickness spreading inside him. Harry set his wand aside, _still in reach_ , Draco noted and slowly pressed the finger that Draco had been sucking on a moment earlier against his entrance. Draco took a deep breath, relaxing as he waited for Harry to breech him. He knew Harry technically couldn’t hurt him, but he had never, _perhaps ironically,_ been much into pain during sex. Slowly and gently, Harry pressed his strong finger inside Draco, past the rim, gently twisting it as he reached the first knuckle.

“What do you think, Draco?” Harry said, not looking away from what he was doing, completely enraptured by the sight. “What do you want?”

Draco bit his lip, “I want you to fuck me.”

Harry smiled, “and?”  
“I want to bite you... please, please let me feed, Harry!” He could hear his own voice and how desperate he sounded, but for once in his life, Draco didn’t care.

“Not yet, Draco.” Harry smiled, “You can wait. You _will_ wait.” He curled his fingertip slightly and Draco saw stars. He desperately wished his prick was hard, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen until he had fresh blood in his system.

“Please, Harry… I want…”

Harry shook his head and Draco felt the tip of another finger gently pressing against his hole. He stopped speaking and fell back onto the pillows, gasping as Harry began scissoring his fingers inside.

“You’re so cool right now,” Harry mused, “your skin. My fingers must feel like fire inside you.” A small moan escaped Draco’s lips as he nodded, “Once you feed I’ll be able to feel you warming up around my cock.” He whispered, planting a kiss on Draco’s thigh, “It’s going to be brilliant.”

Draco shuddered, but he didn’t say anything. Honestly he wasn’t sure if he could.

Harry added another finger and Draco knew he was close. He’d shown his hand; _he’s going to let me bite him while he’s inside me._ Draco knew he only had a few minutes more to wait and he began to tremble in anticipation. Then, without warning, Harry reached over to the side of the bed and tapped his wand tip to his other palm. Draco’s eyes went black as a droplet of blood welled up on Harry’s palm.

“What are you doing?” He asked, frantically.

“You can control it, Draco. I know you can.” Harry whispered, “it’s only a few more moments to wait.”  
Draco couldn’t feel Harry’s fingers inside him anymore. He knew they were still there, still stretching him open, but he couldn’t feel anything. The scent of Harry’s blood was overwhelming. He needed to feed, and he needed to feed now. _Why haven’t I attacked him?_ He wondered. _I’m barely holding myself together, but still I’m lying here letting him finger me while he teases me with an open cut._ Draco’s predatory senses were on full alert as he watched Harry lick the drop of blood off his palm.

“Do you think you could kiss me?” Harry asked.

Draco froze, _it’s an experiment. This whole thing is him seeing exactly how far I can control myself._ He considered the question and then nodded, slowly.

“No biting, not yet. Just another minute more.” Harry reassured him.

Draco nodded again, leaning up into Harry’s mouth as he tasted the blood on his tongue. The vampire was in heaven. Suddenly he was aware of Harry’s fingers again. He was feeling every sensation at once and it was blinding. That tiny drop of blood, shared between Harry’s tongue and his own was enough to awaken his senses and bring him back to reality. _He’s right._ Draco realised, _I can control it…I’ve spent so long not trusting myself, but all this time, Harry’s trusted me completely._

Harry broke away from the kiss and Draco cried out at the loss of both Harry’s mouth and his fingers, which slipped out of Draco at the same time. “Are you ready?” Harry said with a smile, “You did fantastic. Just like I knew you would.”

Draco grinned, he knew his eyes were still black, his fangs were still extended, yet Harry was looking at him with so much love, he didn’t feel inhuman in the slightest.

Harry pressed his cock against Draco and slowly slid inside, stretching Draco just a bit further and drawing moans from both men. Finally, after he was completely buried, he began to thrust, gently at first, and then with increasing speed, “Alright, Draco.” Harry said, leaning into his lover’s body and tilting his head to the side, “do it.”

Draco didn’t need to be told twice. He licked a long stripe up Harry’s neck and plunged his fangs into his carotid artery. The blood was flowing fast and warm over his tongue as he sucked against the wounds, Harry gasped and cried out, pounding into Draco harder and harder as his prick began to finally harden. One of Harry’s hands wrapped around Draco’s head, pulling him closer, begging him to drink more, suck harder, and the other took Draco’s cock and began stroking, firm, quick strokes that made Draco stop drinking long enough to moan with satisfaction.

“Don’t stop, Draco! I’m so close!” Harry gasped, and Draco redoubled his efforts, savouring the taste of Harry’s life on his lips just as Harry adjusted the angle of his thrusts. Draco cried, out, letting the blood still spilling from Harry’s neck run down his chest as he came with a shudder.

Harry wasn’t far behind. Gasping and collapsing over Draco as he spilled inside him, Harry moaned Draco’s name as the vampire licked the wounds, trying to lap up as much of the spilled blood as he could manage. Harry slid out of him and flopped onto the bed beside him as Draco ran his fingers through the blood that had pooled on his chest and brought them to his lips.  
“You know; I love it when you let me prove a point.” Harry said, sounding utterly destroyed.

Draco smiled, bringing another blood-soaked finger to his lips, “I’ll admit it, you were right.”

Draco could feel Harry’s eyes on him and he marvelled that they’d managed to find one another, after everything that had happened to the both of them. _Maybe it really was fate._

“Maybe…” Harry mused as his eyes fluttered closed and he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading and especially those who've commented. :D 
> 
> I'll add an epilogue in the next few days.


	11. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally putting the past behind them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: The first half of this chapter deals with Hospitals and the study of Medicine (including wounds, diseases, and blood) if any of that makes you uncomfortable, I'd skip this.  
> There's also a bit of family trauma and homophobia.

Draco strode into the Elvida Eggmond ward, his drawn wand held loosely by his side.

“Where is he?” He muttered at Guinivere Hodgkins, one of the other Trainees in his cohort.

“Listen, Malfoy-” She said with an exasperated sigh.

“No. Where is he?” Draco was scanning the room, but several of the beds had been cordoned off by their white curtains.

“Malfoy, he’s going to be-” She tried again, but Draco was not listening.

“I’m not waiting, Hodgkins. I’ll check them all…” he held a hand menacingly over the curtains surrounding the bed nearest him, threatening to throw them back dramatically.

“All right! All right!” She whispered, hurrying over to him and grabbing his wrist. “Can’t you just…” she hesitated, suddenly looking as though she had made a mistake.

“Yes?” he said, lowering his hand.

“Can’t you just tell? Where he is, I mean.” She finished, lamely.

“You mean can’t I recognize his scent?” he corrected her, his pale lips curling into a dark smile. “I could, but when I’m working I spend a good deal of energy trying not to use that particular sense.” He muttered, “It’s terribly overwhelming when I do let it all in.”

She nodded, looking surprised that he’d been so candid with her. “He’s in the last bed. Please,” she added, keeping hold of his wrist as he made to leave, “don’t make a scene. Quinn’s already looking for any excuse to bar you from our ward.”

Draco nodded appreciatively and made his way across the ward, passing a man with a nasty gash in his leg that was oozing a purple slime, a witch who was missing both of her hands, talons having replaced them, and horrid cuts all over her face, presumably from forgetting about the talons.

The Healers on the ward were all busy with patients closer to the door, so Draco slipped between the curtains unnoticed and stood at the foot of Harry’s bed.

“I told them not to tell you I came in!” he moaned, slumping back against his pillow with a gasp of pain.

“I heard.” Draco said shortly, looking at his partner with a look of fury mingled with deepest concern.

“I just didn’t want to worry you.” Harry sighed.

“I’m not worried.” Draco said flatly.

“You’re not?”

“No. I’m furious.” Draco’s nostrils flared and he watched his partner’s shoulders slump.

“You know, when I end up in here, it’s not like I’m doing it on purpose… it’s not some plan to spite you.” Harry muttered. He was still wearing his aurors’ robes, his hair was matted with blood and he had quite a nasty cut running along the side of his face. It had been mended inexpertly, _Weasley,_ Draco thought darkly, promising he’d have a word with Ron next time he saw him, and blood was still trickling steadily from it. His boots had been removed when he arrived and his trousers were cut open, revealing a bubbling wound, where the blood was boiling in the open air.

“What sort of person did this to you?” Draco asked, a touch more gently as he saw Harry wince with pain.

“Well they won’t be on our holiday shopping list.” Harry grimaced through the pain, and Draco took a step forward. Harry held his hand up, stopping him from getting any closer. “Don’t do it, Draco.”

Draco looked offended, “I was going to heal you-” he sputtered indignantly.

“You’re not assigned to this ward.” Harry reminded him, “It’s Quinn’s ward. You’ve told me how much he hates you.” He lowered his voice to a whisper, “You don’t need to go using unapproved treatments on patients right under his nose.”

“But we know it would work! Anything he’s going to do is going to leave a nasty scar on your face!” Draco pleaded, “It’s tremendously difficult to patch up a badly mended wound like that, especially since it won’t be his priority,” he glanced furtively at Harry’s leg, careful not to breathe.

“I’ve already got scars,” Harry said with a smile, pushing up his fringe as if Draco needed a reminder, “what’s one more?”

“But your face…” Draco’s voice had taken on a much softer tone and he went to Harry’s side and cupped the uninjured part of his face gently. “He wouldn’t have to know it was me…” he whispered.

“Should I tell him another vampire happened to wander into the hospital and slobbered on my face?” Harry said with a playfully serious expression.

“Perhaps he won’t notice!” Draco pleaded, but Harry shook his head.

“There’s nothing for it.” He said firmly, “Now, you’re meant to be upstairs. You’ll be missed.”

Draco shook his head, “I’m with Stewart today, she’ll understand.”

Harry sat up with a gasp of pain and Draco hurried to readjust his pillows behind his back, “I’m just another patient in another ward. You’ve got to go. I’m going to be perfectly fine. I’ll stop by before I head home.”

“You won’t be out tonight,” Draco assured him, “Quinn will want to keep you for observation.”

“I’ll be out tonight.” Harry assured him. “When you get home I’ll be there, and you can be as cross with me as you like.” He said with a smirk. Draco shook his head, exasperated, but he knew there was no point arguing with Harry.

“I’ll see you at home, then.” He said with a sigh, “And tell Weasley I’m telling Hermione how shoddy his healing spellwork is.”

He heard Harry chuckle as he slipped out the curtains and hurried out of the ward.

 

Draco spent the rest of the day worrying about Harry, _just as he predicted,_ but he didn’t care. He was the top of his class and even when his heart wasn’t in it, he outshone the vast majority of the other trainee healers. When Healer Stewart finally asked him what was troubling him, he told her succinctly that his partner was downstairs, having been on the wrong end of a blood-boiling curse. She tried to insist that he take the rest of the day off to be with Harry, but he told her that Harry wouldn’t allow that. She compensated by spending the rest of the day sending all the fascinating haematological cases to him. She was a small, elderly, fragile-looking woman, and Draco had loved her from the moment they met. She had shaken his hand and looked him up and down, _“Brilliant.”_ She’d said, _“it’s about time they started training you lot. I’ve been saying it for years, untapped potential, that is.”_ She worked on the third floor, in the Saleem Sirpitus ward for blood-based disorders, and had immediately put in a request to take on Draco as her Trainee. The directors of St. Mungo’s had not been pleased with the request, but she was one of the most prestigious haematological Healers in the country and she got what she wanted. She’d been thrilled at Draco’s aptitude with potion-making and frequently asked him to use his unique vampiric abilities to help her suss out precisely what had infected a patient’s blood. She wasn’t the only Healer who thought he had a unique advantage, but she was certainly the most outspoken about ensuring Draco was afforded every available opportunity.

 

When night fell and his shift finally ended, Draco arrived home to find an owl from Ron and Hermione:

**Draco,**

**Harry’s with us. We’re at the Queen’s Arms. Come join us.**

**R &H**

Draco wasn’t pleased that Harry wasn’t resting, but he certainly could use a night out with friends, _why did they always insist on going to muggle pubs?_ He thought disdainfully as he hurried upstairs to get dressed.

 

***

 

Despite the din, Ron’s voice drifted back to their table, “I don’t think she even knows how much she wants it, you know?” he slurred, “She keeps telling me she’s not going to talk to him about it, but she is.”

Draco shot Hermione a glance. She was, predictably, pretending not to hear what Ron was drunkenly telling Harry across the pub. “Well?” He asked softly, “Is he right?”

Hermione sighed, setting down her glass, “I honestly don’t know. It’s true, I absolutely never planned on it, but Kingsley has mentioned it ever so casually and..”

“And you’re thinking about it.” Draco finished for her. “It’s okay, Hermione.” He said softly, seeing her distraught expression, “You’re an obvious choice. And if you think you could make a difference, I don’t see why not.”

She shook her head, looking back at their partners at the bar, “I just don’t think he ever imagined he’d be married to the Minster for Magic…”

Draco laughed and she shot him a look, “he married you, didn’t he? Of course he imagined it!” Hermione’s face fell and Draco took her hand on the table and gave it a light squeeze, “It’s not something to be ashamed of! We all knew you’d go on to do amazing things after school.” Draco gave her a warm smile, “Of the three of you, Harry’s the only one doing anything particularly unexpected…”

Hermione grinned, “Honestly, Draco. If you’re talking about yourself…” He gave her a cheeky wink and looked at Harry across the room. “How was his talk with Kreacher?”

Draco withdrew his hand and now it was his turn to sigh, “It was difficult. Kreacher doesn’t want to feel pitied, but he also wants to stay at Grimmauld Place… And now that Harry’s offered him the chance to live there again he is starting to think about what’s going to happen when he’s gone.”  
Hermione nodded, “He’s quite old, though, isn’t he?” She said with a note of sorrow in her voice, “and his whole family served the Blacks. He must be finding it ever so difficult to be the last in his line…”

Draco nodded, “He worships the ground I walk on.”

Hermione smiled, “that’s not really surprising, is it? A pure-blood, a Death Eater… He must feel right at home.” She smirked at him and Draco punched her gently on the arm.

“Watch it, Granger. You’re not Minister yet; I could still curse you.” He said in a playful voice.

“I think you’ll find, Draco,” Hermione said in her most Ministerial tone, “that cursing _anyone_ in a muggle pub would get you into a fair bit of trouble…”

Draco laughed and just then Harry and Ron returned with another round of drinks.

“What’s Hermione said now?” Harry asked, sliding in next to Draco.

“Oh she was just telling me about all the things you used to say about me. I had no idea you went around telling all the Gryffindors how much you fancied me…”

Hermione smiled and Harry glared at him, “You’re a terrible liar, Draco Malfoy.”

“Yes, Potter. I know.” He said with a grin. “But when you’re a skilled Legilimens, such as myself, it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Ron laughed, “he’s got you there, mate.” He took a swig from his glass and put his arm around Hermione. “Bit scary, though… if you think about it.”

“I try never to think about what Draco says.” Harry said, earning himself a smack from Draco.

“You are all awful. Honestly, I need to find more women to spend time with… you are all terrible company.” Hermione moaned, finishing her drink and accepting the new one that Ron had brought back for her.

“You could spend time with Draco’s mother, she’s coming to visit.” Harry said nonchalantly, also finishing his pint.

Draco’s veins turned to ice, “What did you say?” His voice was barely over a whisper, but the whole pub seemed to have gone quiet. Harry paused mid-drink, all of the blood draining from his face as he realised what he’d said. “Did you say my mother is coming?” Draco asked again.

Draco heard Hermione quickly cast a Muffliato Charm around the four of them, but he didn’t plan on raising his voice. In fact, he found he could hardly speak at all.

“How do you know?” He asked quietly, both angry and ashamed to realize that there were tears welling in his eyes.

Harry put down the pint glass and gave him a timid glance, “I’m so sorry, Draco. I should’ve told you straight off.” He reached out to take Draco’s hand. Draco’s first instinct was to snatch it out of Harry’s reach, but he suddenly found that he couldn’t move. “A letter arrived today while you were at hospital.” He squeezed Draco’s hand gently, but it remained lifeless under his.

“When?” Draco said, his throat was parched and he wondered vaguely if beer would help…

“Oh, erm, this afternoon… It was just after I’d gotten back-”

“No.” Draco cut him off, “when is she coming?”

“Oh!” Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, “Tomorrow.” Draco looked up sharply and Harry added quickly, “she apologised for the late notice, I suppose she tried to reach you at the Manor but the owl she sent couldn’t find you…”

Draco’s heart was in his throat. He stood up slowly and Hermione stood as well, coming to stand beside him, “Draco, what can we do?” she asked candidly, her voice soft and kind, but Draco couldn’t hear her.

“I need to go home.” He said. His voice sounded miles away.

He reached into his pocket for his wand but Hermione took his elbow firmly, “Ron, can you help Draco to the gents?”

Ron nodded and jumped to his feet as well. He took Draco by the arm and dragged him away from the table. Draco was briefly aware that Harry was stood up as well, but he couldn’t think. “Why? No, I have to get home.” Draco protested, halfway across the pub as he realised that he was being dragged off by Ron.

“You can’t apparate here, mate. It’s a muggle pub.” Ron muttered, “Get you into the loo, then you can go back to Grimmauld Place.”

Draco shook his head, but let Ron manhandle him into the toilet, “not there,” he muttered, “I have to go home.” And without another word he vanished.

 

***

 

Draco had summoned Daisy and Marigold immediately and set about ensuring the Manor was spotless. It hadn’t been lived in for almost a year, so at this point, the battle was mostly with the creeping dust and staleness in the air. He knew his mother would know he was living elsewhere, _she won’t mention it,_ he thought, _but she’ll know._ He’d kept a fire burning in the library all night, half in the hopes that it would liven the place up, and half out of practicality in case she chose to arrive by floo powder. _Highly unlikely,_ Draco thought, _she hates how it musses up one’s hair._ He stood in the kitchen, suddenly aware that there was no food in the house and called for Marigold who appeared with a _Crack!_

“I’m sorry I didn’t think of it sooner, Marigold. My mother may want something to eat when she arrives. Could you prepare something? I don’t know when she’s getting here, if you need additional help, I can see if the kitchens could spare a few elves…”

Marigold nodded eagerly, excited that she had the chance to impress another, _a living,_ member of the Malfoy family again.

Draco still felt dazed, wandering through the house trying not to think about what his mother’s reason for visiting was _… it’s been so long…_

Suddenly, Draco heard a soft tapping somewhere in the manor, _an owl!_ He hurried upstairs, flinging open the door to his bedroom to find Saramin, Harry’s owl, tapping gently on the window. “What does he want?” Draco suddenly felt the shell of numbness around his mind cracking apart, leaving anger in its wake. _He should’ve told me straight off,_ he fumed, letting Saramin in and retrieving the letter from her leg. _He shouldn’t’ve waited until we’d been out for a pint or two with his friends before he thought to tell me, drunkenly, no less…_ he knew it was a little unreasonable, Harry had probably just forgotten, but he was still angry. _Am I angry at Harry?_ He wondered, stroking Saramin’s soft feathers, _or my mother?_

He finally gave Saramin an owl treat from Tiw’s old cage and watched her fly off with a satisfied hoot.

**Draco,**

**I’m so sorry. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. I’m happy to be there with you, if you want me. Otherwise I’ll keep my distance. Please write back.**

**All my love,**

**H**

Draco didn’t know what had happened but suddenly he was sobbing on the floor of his bedroom. He clutched the letter in his hand as fat tears rolled down his face and he took great shuddering, unnecessary, breaths. After a moment he was able to compose himself and he began to reach for a quill and parchment, before he realised that Tiw was at Grimmauld Place and Saramin had left without waiting for a response. He hauled himself off the floor, hoping Harry was home for a firecall when he heard a long-forgotten voice from downstairs…

“Draco?” His mother’s voice was clear and cold. It echoed in the empty manor and Draco nearly tripped over his own feet hurrying to the door, “Draco, are you here?”

Draco wiped his face hastily and appeared at the top of the stairs, “Mother?”

Narcissa appeared at the foot of the stairs, looking, wide-eyed, up at her son. Draco noticed she looked older, perhaps thinner. _Where is he keeping her? Where has he been hiding?_ “Oh, Draco!” she cried out, her voice breaking as she hurried up the stairs, the heels of her boots clicking familiarly as Draco rushed down to meet her.

She pulled him in for a tight embrace, but after a moment she pulled back, studying his tear-soaked face. “Draco? What’s happened?” she ran her thumb across his cheek and he couldn’t help the soft sob that tore from his throat. “Oh, Draco!” She pulled his head against her chest and held him close as his shoulders shook. “Come.” She said, after a moment of letting him weep, “Tell mummy what’s happened.”

She took Draco’s arm and led him down the stairs, pausing at the door to the library, but leading him on through to the dining room instead. True to her word, Marigold had laid out a magnificent assortment of pies, biscuits, cakes, and sweets. Narcissa sat Draco down in one of the chairs and began piling food on a plate for him before she suddenly froze, “Oh-” she said softly, setting the plate down with a clatter that seemed to echo in the quiet room. Draco looked up at her with his grey eyes, trying to measure her reaction.

“It’s alright, mother.” He whispered, “Don’t worry about it.”

She looked genuinely distraught and sunk into the chair next to his, “For a moment it was like-”

“It was like I was your son again.” Draco finished, a hint of his bitterness edging into his voice.

Narcissa looked at him sternly and placed her hand on his arm, “You _are_ my son. No matter what.”

“You left.” He said simply, not bothering to hide the tears in his eyes. For so long he’d had to hide them, from his father, from his friends, from the world, but now… _Now it’s just us._

Narcissa shook her head mournfully. “I am so sorry, Draco.” She put her arm around him and pulled him against her again, “I tried to convince him to stay…”

Draco nodded, “I know.”  
She looked at him once more, “I really am so sorry.” Draco nodded, _it’s not her fault… she loves him. She thought she’d lost me…_ “What happened to you, Draco?” She asked softly, dabbing at his face with a serviette. “What’s made you so unhappy?”

He sniffled a bit and laughed a choked laugh, “I’m not unhappy at all.” He explained, “I was crying because I’d been foolish. But I’ve never been happier…” he watched her expression change from concern to surprise as she leant back in her chair.

“That’s wonderful, Draco!” She settled her hands in her lap, looking as regal as he remembered, “I can’t tell you happy that makes me!”

“I’ve so much to tell you, mother.” He said, wiping away tears as he offered her the plate she’d prepared for him. “I’ve not been living at the mansion,” he began, “but you know that.”

She nodded, “Can I ask-?” She took a small bite of a biscuit in lieu of finishing the question and Draco grinned.

His smile faltered, however, as he realised what was coming. “I’ve met someone.” He said cautiously. _She doesn’t know any of it…_ he bit his lip anxiously, _I wonder which part will be the most upsetting…_

She smiled broadly, “That’s excellent, Draco. Who is she?”

“Well, I say met… We’ve known each other quite a while now…” he was decidedly dodging the question now, “Since school.”

Narcissa looked surprised, “Who is it, Draco?”

“Harry Potter.” Draco was proud of himself for not looking away. His mother’s expression didn’t change, she still looked expectant, as if she’s somehow not heard him…

Then, he saw the comprehension dawn on her face… “Harry Potter?” She asked softly… clearly unsure whether this was some sort of strange joke.

“Yes, mother. Harry and I have been living together. In your Aunt Walburga’s old home, actually.” Draco kept his tone casual, he had no idea how his mother would react to any of these revelations.

“Potter lives at Grimmauld Place? Even after Sirius-?” That was not the response Draco had expected, but nevertheless he nodded and Narcissa furrowed her brow. “So you and he…?”

“We’re…” Harry usually introduced him by name, but often with his arm around Draco, and that left little to the imagination. _What is he? My lover? Boyfriend? Partner? Donor?_ “He’s been good to me, mother.” Draco said with a sigh, _I don’t know what else to say…_ “He came round about a year ago on Ministry business and learned what had happened to me. He was kind to me and one thing led to another,” he finished lamely.

Narcissa’s lips were pursed, but she nodded slowly, “I can’t say your father will be pleased and I certainly didn’t expect… but if he makes you happy, and loves you for who you are…” she sounded physically pained by the words coming out of her mouth, but he knew she meant them.

“Thank you, mother.” He said, “I know it must all be quite a shock. I should’ve told you sooner…”

She shook her head, “I love you no matter what. I’m sorry I haven’t shown it well before.”

Draco smiled tearfully, “I’d like it very much if you would join us for dinner…” he offered, “unless- how long will you be staying?”

Narcissa looked uncertain, “I planned to stay at least until tomorrow morning. Your father had business to attend to, he had to-”

Draco held up his hand to stop her, “I’m sorry, mother. I don’t want to know.” Narcissa looked surprised. “If you tell me what he’s doing I’ll have to tell Harry… He’s an auror and I don’t want you to get into any trouble.”

His mother nodded, “I understand.” She was silent for a moment, taking another bite of her biscuit, “Very well, dinner would be lovely.”

Draco grinned and leapt to his feet, “I’ll let him know you’ll be coming round!” He kissed her softly on the cheek, “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

Draco thought he felt her smile, but he rushed out of the room, calling Daisy as he went.

The small, trembling elf appeared in front of him with a _crack!_

“Daisy, I need you to go to Number 12 Grimmauld Place and tell Harry Potter that my mother and I will be joining him for dinner.” She looked slightly less terrified at the thought of speaking to a human, but Draco couldn’t help but worry that the message wouldn’t get relayed accurately. “Take Marigold with you, and if Harry needs any help with dinner you can give him a hand.” She nodded and vanished with a squeak and Draco hurried back into the dining room. “Some of your clothes are still here, if you want to take a look, or we could go out to Diagon… not that what you’re wearing isn’t fine… it’ll be quite casual. Harry has absolutely no sense of style…” He realised he was blathering on and shut his mouth.

Narcissa still looked uncertain, but she smiled softly, _she’s so beautiful,_ Draco thought. “I need to visit the shops anyway,” she said and Draco noticed she didn’t meet his eyes, “Why don’t I meet you at… at Mr. Potter’s home.”

Draco nodded, suddenly uncertain, _this seems like more than just discomfort at my relationship… is she hiding something?_

“Would 7 o’clock do?” She stood abruptly and made for the door, Draco rose as well, his mind racing.

“Certainly.” Draco called after her as she vanished in a swishing swirl of robes.

Then, as suddenly as she had appeared, Narcissa was gone. 

 _Something’s not right… she took the news about Harry better than I would’ve expected,_ he thought, _considering… but now she’s suddenly being cagey and secretive… I need to see Harry._

 

***

Draco apparated into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place with a soft pop and almost immediately felt Harry’s arms around his neck.

“I’m so glad you’re back.” Harry said, his voice rougher than usual and Draco wondered if he’d been crying, too. “I’m so sorry. I was such a twat.”

Draco chuckled, “You’re alright.”

“So I got your message,” Harry said, “she’s coming here? You told her about us?” He was firing off questions so quickly that Draco finally put a finger to his lips.

“I didn’t know what to do,” he said, “I thought she’d like to see this place again, and it’ll give her a chance to meet you… again…”

Harry nodded, but Draco could tell he was just as uncomfortable as his mother.

“If I’ve made a mistake, tell me. I’ll call it off. I wish the two of you could get on, but I understand it’s asking a lot. Particularly of you…”

Harry was still for a moment, thinking, finally he released Draco and shook his head, “I’d like to give it a go.” He said resolutely. “She saved my life, after all.”

Draco nodded, his mother’s love for him had saved Harry… when he’d first heard the story, one night while they were lying in bed several months ago, he had been struck speechless. _My mother defied the Dark Lord for me?_ He’d scarcely believed it. “Daisy and Marigold can take care of the meal… let’s see if we can find you something to wear.”

Harry frowned slightly, Draco was absolutely certain he’d planned some rebellious show of dissent, wearing jeans and a T-shirt.

 

***

 

It was just gone six when an owl appeared at their window, urgently tapping at the glass until Draco finally let him in. To his surprise, the owl flew right past him, out into the corridor. “Harry!” he called, “There’s a Ministry owl for you!”

The ministry owls were very particular about delivering their letters only to the addressee, particularly when the addressee was one of their top aurors. It took a little while for Draco to stop feeling offended that occasionally an owl wouldn’t let him near it, pecking at him until Harry came downstairs to retrieve his letter personally.

Harry’s footsteps came hurrying down the stairs and Draco, who had just spent several hours picking out the perfect outfits for the two of them to wear to tea, was dismayed to see that he was pulling on his auror robes.

“Harry! What is it?” He asked, somewhere between frustrated and frightened. _Even though it’s Harry, of all people, I’ll never get used to seeing him rush out headlong into danger._

“Urgent call, they were very vague. Something’s happening, though. At the Ministry!” Harry kissed Draco hurriedly and apparated, leaving Draco alone in the foyer of Grimmauld place, less than an hour before dinner was meant to be served.

Draco looked at his pocketwatch, _half-six and no word from Harry… or mother, for that matter._ He shifted uncomfortably in his seat by the fire, _what if he’s delayed… Mother certainly won’t mind, she’s not looking forward to this any more than Harry._ A stray thought crossed Draco’s mind, _what if Harry’s not at the Ministry at all? What if he and Ron concocted some plan so that he would be able to miss dinner with my mother?_ He pushed the thought aside, it was certainly something Harry would think of, but he trusted that he’d feel too strong a sense of duty to Draco to follow through. Especially when he knew how anxious his sudden departures always made Draco.

Seven o’clock came and went and Draco was still alone. Marigold and Daisy (with the unwanted help of Kreacher) had prepared a brilliant feast for the three of them with puddings, pies, tarts, and a turkey the size of Peeves.

He, of course, was the only one not eating, and was now alone in the house with a table full of scrumptious-looking food, feeling hungry and bitter. He checked their rota on the wall (though he didn’t need to, they’d both learned their schedule by instinct at this point) and saw Harry’s tick marks where he’d crossed off the days counting down to their next feeding.

He had finally decided to send Tiw to go find his mother, when he heard a pounding knock on the door.

Draco stood, drawing his wand as he strode into the corridor and toward the door. He threw it open to find Harry standing behind his mother and… _Father?_ He sputtered with confusion before he saw that Harry’s wand was drawn as well and was trained on his Father’s back. Lucius’s expression was dark, his eyes little more than narrow slits as he glared at Draco in the doorway. Narcissa looked beside herself and Draco knew how rare it was for her to wear her emotions on her face like that.

“What is happening?” he finally managed to gasp.

“Inside, I think, Draco.” Harry gritted out through his teeth, and Draco stepped aside to allow his mother and father through the doorway.

Harry followed them down the hall, leading Lucius to the sitting room, where he gestured curtly at one of the chairs, into which Lucius sank stiffly. Narcissa sat in the chair beside him and Harry remained standing across the room, next to Draco’s usual chair by the fire.

Draco took the hint and sat as well, looking back and forth between his parents and Harry, all of whom looked livid. His father, he noticed, looked particularly furious, his long silver hair looked as though it had been tied in a low ponytail, but so many strands had come loose it now looked uncharacteristically sloppy. Draco couldn’t help but notice his father looked particularly pale and, like his mother, a bit too thin.

“Lucius,” Harry said suddenly, breaking the silence in the room, “was just found inside the Ministry of Magic.” Draco looked at him in horror. “He broke into the Minster’s office to plant a cursed artefact for the Minister to find.”

Draco stared at Harry, open-mouthed, unable to form coherent thoughts or words.

“Hermione stopped by the Minister’s office to talk to him. She found him unconscious on the floor, with a cursed quill in his hand. She immediately raised the alarm and the Ministry was locked down.”

“The Minister?” Draco asked anxiously, “is he-”

“He was rushed to St. Mungo’s.”

Draco’s shock was quickly turning to rage as he rounded on his father, “What _exactly_ did you imagine you would accomplish?” his voice was soft, almost silken. He felt Harry stiffen behind him, because he’d never truly seen Malfoy rage. He stood, feeling his fangs elongating as he took a step forward, “did you really expect to outwit the entire Ministry of Magic? _You?_ ” Draco sneered, “You thought you’d be the one to bring it toppling down?”

Lucius looked as though he, too, wanted to stand, but Harry’s wand was still pointed at him, so he remained still. “I did what was necessary. After the War the Ministry has turned its back on us, it has climbed into bed with blood-traitors, mudbloods, foul creatures, filth-” Lucius stopped short as Draco’s face split into a wide, fanged, smile.

“Oh do go on, Father.” Draco hissed, “Foul creatures? Blood-traitors?” He took another step and felt Harry’s tension behind him, “You blame the Ministry for what’s happened to me?”

Narcissa began to weep silently beside Lucius and Draco noticed that he didn’t even spare her a glance, “If the Ministry had not imprisoned me, the Dark Lord-” Lucius began, but Draco raised a hand to stop him.

“Oh shut up, Father. If the Ministry hadn’t sent you to Azkaban you would’ve undoubtedly failed the Dark Lord in some other way. You are a coward,” Draco could hardly believe the words coming from his mouth, but there was no stopping them now, “You are pathetic, and _you, Father,_ are the reason I’m no longer human.”

Draco felt a soft hand laid on his shoulder and he stopped speaking,  _Harry's here, he isn't judging me for what he sees in my parents._ The thought comforted Draco and he smiled at Harry appreciatively. 

“And you,” he turned to his mother, “did you know about this?”

She continued to sob softly and Draco shook his head. “Look at the pair of you,” he scoffed, turning his back on them, “If they call me up to testify, I will. I can’t believe I was ever proud to be called your son.”

“Draco!” his mother choked out, but Draco didn’t turn.

“What will happen to them now?” Draco asked Harry softly.

“I’ll take them back with me, they’ll go before the Wizengamot and most likely he’ll be returned to Azkaban. She didn’t play a part in it as far as I can tell, but may be looking at charges of conspiracy to assassinate the Minister…” Harry’s voice faltered, he was probably feeling sorry for Draco, but Draco nodded.

“Good.” Then, in full view of both of his parents, he kissed Harry Potter, long and passionately. _These people who abandoned me, who manipulated me, who rejected me, they aren't my family. He's my family. He's my life. He's my everything._ And for the first time in his life Draco felt truly free.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading,  
> I always appreciate comments and Kudos (but then, who doesn't?)


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